Hadrian Riddle and the Crimson Lance
by thosetooweaktoseekit
Summary: Harry Potter saved the world. But he hasn't saved himself. In a search for happiness, he stumbles upon a spell that will give him a fresh start. In an alternate universe in 1971, the life of Harry Potter pales to the adventure that is Hadrian Riddle's. Perhaps 'Riddle' is not the best alias, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and most certainly the least of his problems.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I had this story running around in my head and I had to let it out.

 _Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says that he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks he's still adjusting to 'a perfectly nice, normal life.' But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war, he misses it._

 _So in search of happiness, of true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a year of research he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if it meant he could leave Harry Potter behind him. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him._

* * *

"Shut up."

"Uh, I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking. It's annoying."

"What the hell! Are you serious?"

"For your own sake and my sanity, I hope to God that wasn't a pun."

"Is that a threat?"

"Oh, both of you shove it!" The third member of their little party whispered sharply as one could while whispering.

"Oi! He's the one going on about 'hearing me think.' What is that even supposed to mean?"

"Sorry, I know that actually trying using your head for once must be a nice change but it was aggravating for me to see you attempting such a miraculous feat, because you were failing so horrendously. Almost painful, really."

"You know what's painful? If I were to, let's say-"

"Everyone put a sock in it! If you keep fighting like this Filch will find us, or worse." The fourth person that made up their awkward quartet spoke with soft amusement- but also warning. So, in the heavy, all-consuming shadows of a fifth floor corridor, they waited for their last friend- or in one of the group member's situation, an uneasy ally. The only light within the area was moonlight pooled under a narrow window, no wider than your palm. It made the empty suits of armor shine eerily, and added a mystical feeling to the hall.

The boys took refuge in this particular hall because of the lack of paintings, which was rare in the Howarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. No paintings means one less way they could find them, it meant no spying portraits to tattle on their hiding spot. The first boy, whom was rather renounced for his sharp tongue (as the second boy was well aware), glanced conspicuously at his million-galleon wristwatch. _Oh, where is he? After all we've been through, he couldn't have gotten caught and blown it all. No, he's too good for that. So, what the hell is R. doing?_ The first boy thought with exasperation and nagging worry.

As if on cue, a soft patter of steps hollowly echoed down the corridor. For precaution they ducked behind the statue of Carwin of Precaution (oh, ha ha. The irony.) Their fears of it not being their friend went unfounded when they heard-

"We've got a problem." But in that fear's place, a new fear arose. Their somewhat leader and (rather late) friend was not one to exaggerate. More like 'underestimate.' So, if he said there was a problem, well, they were screwed.

"What's happening?" The second boy (the one who _isn't_ renounced for his quick thinking) asked.

"They know our names." The fourth boy (the logical one, he's got a brain and loves to use it) sighed just slightly and put his head in his hands.

"What do we do?" He mumbled with despair. The leader grinned, but it was in a tired sort of way, that made him look many long years older than his actual age.

"We can make it to our dormitories with no one the wiser. Then we play up the innocence, replace the Court's Veritaserum, hand out Obliviates like candy, plant false memories, and we're home free!"

"You forgot to mention that in the process we'd practically be breaking twice as many laws as it took to get us into this mess." The one with the million-galleon watch said dryly.

"Shh! You idiot, never admit to a crime out loud. Eyes and ears are everywhere. Everywhere!" The third boy (who was admittingly disgruntled at his current companion, Mister Million-Galleon Watch) whom, up until this point, had been uncharacteristically quiet, added himself to the conversation.

"We broke Laws." The way the third boy said it, was with a capital. It was finally hitting him. What had just happened over the past weekend. " We broke Laws! Oh dear, holy Merlin. I can hear the judge- you are prosecuted with aiding and abetting, murder, attempted murder, use of Dark magic, use of Unforgivables, impersonation, thievery, breaking and entering, indirect torture, with holding of crucial information from Ministry, etc. Merlin, our case is hopeless! Just admit it- hopeless!" He had spoke the charges in a deep voice probably as if channeling his inner judge, and the way he had put it- it did sound hopeless.

"Well, they haven't sent out, like, a search party or anything. So, that's a plus." The second boy said the last sentence like a question, which really wasn't helpful. Their somewhat leader huffed indignantly.

"Of course there are search parties! Why do you think I want us to get to our dormitories? If they get there first, well, goodbye Hogwarts, hello Azkaban prison. That is, unless you fancy a visit from your father?" The last question was aimed at the third boy who immediately paled. His father was Head Auror. Oh, they were so, _very_ screwed.

* * *

(One Year Earlier)

 **Issues on the Express**

* * *

"Owl, darling! Owl as soon as you can!" The lilting voice of Dorea Potter reached young James' ears, and he slid down further into his seat with embarrassment. _What kind of mother,_ James thought, _would try so dang hard to ruin any chances of her son making friends? No one will want to be friends with a momma's boy._ And so with that last depressing thought, James Charlus Potter settled in for the ride to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The train moved majestically through the sprawling countryside, and James thought for sure he was going to spend the trip to school alone. That is until, with a loud bang, the roof above him gave way and he leapt aside in fright. The dust slowly drifted then cleared, revealing a lithe boy with aristocratic features and slightly wavy black hair standing in the center of the debris. With a tentative smile he reached out a hand towards James, who stared at it completely dumbfounded.

 _He wants you to shake it, dummy._ James mentally thanked his inner voice and shook the offered hand.

"The name's Hadrian. Hadrian Riddle."

"James. James Potter."

"Pleased to meet you, James." Then the boy smiled like he hadn't just fell through the ceiling and sat down on the opposite seat from where James had been. _Why do I have the strangest feeling, that I'm gonna have one hell of a year?_ His inner voice chuckled at him. _'Cause you are, dummy._

* * *

Any guesses as to who the five boys are? I'll give some hints:

Notice how it said dormitories, as in different ones, different houses.

The first boy is rather rude, extremely rich, and strongly dislikes the second boy because he is seen as a disgrace. In fact, he dislikes him more than the third boy.

The second boy is prone to mood swings, can be a bit vicious and over the top. He is often seen as not particularly bright, but don't be fooled. He isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he can still make a mean cut.

The third boy despises the first, adores the second and fourth, and the fifth is like a brother to him. He likes to joke with people, but often can be blunt and doesn't realize the consequences of his actions

The fourth boy is more thoughtful, and likes to think things through. He wants acceptance more than anything though, and that perhaps leads him to go along with others' stupid ideas.

The fifth boy is an adventurer, and wants just to be content with his life. His eyes also are eerily similar to one Lily Evans' (if you don't get that one...)


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: This chapter should put some foundation behind the story.

* * *

 _Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks he's still adjusting to a 'perfectly nice, normal life.' But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war- he misses it._

 _So in search of happiness, of true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a year of research he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if he could leave Harry Potter behind. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him._

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

"The name's Hadrian. Hadrian Riddle."

"James. James Potter."

"Pleased to meet you, James." Then the boy smiled like he hadn't just fell through the ceiling and sat down on the opposite seat from where James had been. _Why do I have the strangest feeling it's gonna be one hell of a year?_ James' inner voice chuckled. _'Cause it will be, dummy._

* * *

Chapter 2

 **The Proper Path**

* * *

"So...what exactly was that?" Harry laughed. It must've come off a bit rude to James, but he couldn't help it. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure what exactly 'that' was. He wasn't quite sure what the past twenty four hours had been. A big blur, really.

 _Flashback to the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts_

 _Harry had a massive headache, and yet couldn't be happier. Because for once it was an all natural, non-Voldemort-induced migraine. Because Voldemort was gone._

 _"Harry?" It was Hermione. "Go lie down, you look like you'll fall down where you stand." Harry knew there was no point in arguing, and truthfully he wouldn't mind a little rest. So he made his way to the (thank Merlin) still standing Gryffindor north tower. He walked through the common room with a faint reminiscing smile, before making his way to the Seventh year dorms, which he actually had yet to see. The red and gold curtains brought back both good and bad memories. Gobstones games with his year mates...fighting with Ron...late nights pouring over the Maruader's Map...talking with Professor Dumbledore. Harry promptly slipped into sleep thinking of his old mentor._

 _..._

 _It was blindingly white._

 _And scarily familiar._

 _"Back again, Harry?" Harry spun about._

 _"How am I here?" He demanded. "Am I-?" His voice choked._

 _"I do not know." The Professor's face was peaceful and at most, mildly curious._

 _"Though I highly doubt you are passing, now. Most likely, you are merely asleep." That reminded Harry of his waltz down memory lane, and how he must have drifted into sleep._

 _"But- why am I here? How did I get here?" Dumbledore just smiled benignly, and Harry had to hold in a huff of frustration._

 _"You are here, because you are." Professor Dumbledore said it simply, but Harry was once again confused by the old man's words._

 _..._

 _Harry awoke with a jolt. What a strange dream, he had a feeling it wouldn't be the last._

 _2 months after the Battle of Hogwarts_

 _..._

 _"You understand, don't you, Professor?" The old man looked all his years today._

 _"No, Harry. I really don't." Harry looked up from his laces, surprised. Albus had agreed whole-heartedly with his decision since the start. What was going on? " I implore you to not misunderstand, I do support your decision. But by no means can I understand why you are doing this- simply because I am not you." Albus (as he insisted Harry call him) shifted his gaze from Harry and stared off into the whiteness of King's Cross, contemplatively. Harry knew he wasn't finished, but couldn't resist asking a question._

 _"If you don't get why I'm doing all of this, then why do you agree with my choices?" A strange melancholy smile graced the older wizard's face._

 _"I do not understand why this is the path you have chosen, but there is one thing I do understand. It is your time, your place." Harry's childlike impatience couldn't help interrupting._

 _"My time? Place?" A moment of silence hung in the air, suspended, before the other spoke._

 _"This is your train to board, Harry." The man was once again staring into the white-and this time Harry followed his eyes to a faint shape's outline in the distance. He could've swore it was the shape of a distant Hogwarts Express. "This is your next greatest adventure."_

 _And for the first time in a long time, or maybe it was the first time, Harry felt utterly at peace. His mentor understood why he was doing this, turning to dark magic. Dumbledore believed in him, trusted him, to do the right thing. Now if only Harry could figure out what the old man had meant by 'his time' and 'his place'._

 _..._

 _Approximately a year after the Battle of Hogwarts_

 _..._

 _"Professor! Professor, I've done it! I've found the spell! Professor?" The white King's Cross showed no sign of Albus Dumbledore, but Harry didn't remain disappointed for long. He knew that Dumbledore knew, he realized now that the Professor had waited to go on until Harry could go 'on'. And Harry hoped with all his being the the old wizard had found happiness, as he planned to._

 _..._

 _The last 24 hours_

 _Harry felt like his innards were being sucked out by the the world's largest vacuum. Yes, it was that bad. He vaguely saw from his tear-swimming eyes the Potions lab of Hogwarts turn to a cobblestone street (probably somewhere in London). As soon as the feeling of the gigantic vacuum vanished, a headache worth a thousand Crucios assaulted Harry. Memories of a life he never lived hit him like a ton of bricks, wave after wave of an orphanage and the older boys taunting and hitting him. He tried to scramble to his feet to regain his senses but just fell down. Before he could hit the stones though, a skinny, pale arm shot out and caught his._

 _"Get up." A woman's voice snapped. Harry rubbed his eyes and stared balefully at his somewhat savior. Then he nearly jumped back in shock, because he recognized this woman. Ms. Cole, the director of Voldemort's childhood orphanage. So before he could stop it-_

" _Riddle!" Harry blurted out._

 _"So you are," she said, clearly amused. No, Harry thought, no, no, no. He began to realize how much of a mistake he had made. The spell's nature was to create a life for him around his choices he made in the life of someone the could have existed in this universe. He had just accidentally had the spell label his last name as Riddle, so he was officially known from the 'beginning' of this life as Harry Riddle. Well, if he was changing things..._

 _"Yeah, Hadrian Riddle, that's me." The matron looked at him oddly._

 _"Now that you've assured yourself of your own name, would you grace the Professor with your presence?" The total confusion Harry felt must have showed because the matron rolled her eyes in aggravation. "The woman I told you about, who wants you to attend her private school? She's waiting inside." Harry's (Hadrian's) eyes widened. She must be talking about a Hogwarts' Professor, I'm eleven again! He thought happily to himself, I'm going home! To Hogwarts._

 _The following day went like so:_

 _Professor McGonagall apologized for being so horrendously late._

 _Offered to take him shopping._

 _Harry kindly declined and simply asked for directions to Diagon Alley._

 _He soon after discovered the date- August 30th, 1971._

 _He went to sleep. Then woke up at ten, and promptly panicked because the train was leaving in an hour. He did end up missing the train, and after portkeyng onto the Express didn't work, he tried Apparating-which was horrifyingly painful and an epic fail. As a last resort, he un-shrunk his new broom and flew after the train. But some serious sheer dumb luck he intercepted it on a turn and blasted a precarious hole in the last compartment. Then he jumped._

* * *

Well, Harry thought, he supposed he did know what exactly happened. It just was that he wasn't so sure he could explain it all without sounding insane.

"Accidents happen. Think of it like a major prank." James lit up at that, as Harry assumed he would.

"You like pranks, do you?" James asked mischievously.

"Love 'em." Harry said roguishly.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

Author's Note: hope that explained some things. If something is unclear, tell me, so I can elaborate.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: The Sorting approaches, and the Maruaders have their first crusades. Yes, as in plural.

* * *

 _Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says he's haunted by memories of the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks that he's still adjusting to 'a perfectly nice, normal life.' But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war. He misses it._

 _So in sear_ _ch of happiness, of true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a long year of research, he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if it meant he could leave Harry Potter behind. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him._

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

"You like pranks, do you?" James asked mischievously.

"Love 'em." Harry said roguishly.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

Chapter 3

 **The Feeling of Belonging**

* * *

Harry listened to James go over the finer points of the Bulgarian quidditch team's defense against London with a deep, contented feeling. He had never felt so- _right_ before. It was odd, really. It was as if a missing piece of him had been found again. Not to mention how odd it was that the most comfortable he had ever felt in his life, was on a train in an alternate universe in 1971 talking with his would-be father.

Just another day in the life of Harry Potter.

Scratch that, _Hadrian Riddle._

Yup, completely, positively, ordinary- in every way possible when one was Harry (Hadrian) Potter (Riddle).

...(Riddle!)

"Who's your team, eh?" James questioned, and began to size him up, as if judging his taste in quidditch teams by his looks alone.

"I'm loyal to London, through and through, though I won't lie- I've rooted for Puddlemere United a few times. But, of course, never when they're facing us."

"I have a fondness for the Cannons," James admitted, (like Ron, Harry couldn't help by think with melancholy). James squirmed in his seat excitedly out of nowhere then, and Harry soon found out why.

"So, what house are you aiming for? At Hogwarts?" Harry felt the pit of his stomach drop six feet under, and a wave of unease hit him. _The Sorting._ He remembered his first Sorting vividly.

What if the Hat didn't take what Harry said into consideration this time? What if, this time around, he really _did_ go to Slytherin? Returning to an old bad habit of his, Harry flattened his hair down un-necessarily and nervously. He couldn't go to Slytherin, he wouldn't.

Because then if he did, he would have to recognize one more similiarity he and a young Dark Lord shared. He could imagine sitting under the old, frayed Hat as it told him he'd be great in Slytherin.

He could see himself mentally huffing at it and thinking, _I even share his bloody last name now, the last you can do is give me this little piece of comfort by putting me in a different house. I share his BLOODY NAME! Isn't that enough? At least enough, for one day?_

But he could also see the the Hat telling him something like accept yourself' or 'it isn't fair to label an entire population by one person's actions' or something equally as annoyingly wise.

Then he'd probably tell it to sod off.

In reaction to which the Hat would put him in Slytherin, all spiteful-like.

There was no escaping fate! Was he over reacting?

"Hadrian? Hadrian? Harry? _RIDDLE!"_ Harry nearly jumped a foot in the air when James shouted, but realized he had been staring vacantly out the window, stupidly imagining non existent conversations with the old Hat and worrying over them. Apologizing quickly he finally answered the other boy's original question.

"Gryffindor sounds best," he said confidently. He meant it too, Harry just wasn't so sure he'd be _in_ Gryffindor. Falling into another nervous habit, Harry reached up to push his glasses further up his nose- only to discover they weren't there.

 _How is it,_ Harry thought with exasperation, _that I don't notice these things._ Then he realized, honestly, for the first time- he had no idea how he looked right now.

 _Oh well,_ he decided, _I'll check in my dormitory bathroom to see what other changes this world has brought besides perfect vision. Not that I'm complaining._

 _Now, if only that dormitory isn't going to be a Slytherin one..._

* * *

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" The gruff, booming voice of Rubeus Hagrid resounded over the bustling mess of students pouring from train compartments. Friends were shoutng over the din, and luggage was being tripped over more times than Harry had ever thought possible- all in all, it was nearly impossible for he and James to wrestle their way around. About halfway to Hagrid's swinging lantern, James made the mistake of talking to an upperclassman.

"Excuse me," he asked (politely, thank Merlin for the little mercies), "could you move your luggage aside?" The student that James had tentatively tapped on the shoulder turned slowly, and Harry nearly face-palmed when he saw the Slytherin ensemble on the boy's robes. He looked to be a year or two above them, but that wasn't what Harry focused on. It was the shoulder-length, blonde-white hair and stormy grey eyes that had him almost ready to whip his wand out.

He was staring at the face of the notorious Death Eater, Voldemort's right-hand man, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.

The nausea from before was back, but for different reasons. This was the person that killed Bill Weasley. Granted, Harry hadn't known Bill that well, but he had been a great asset in the war with his extensive knowledge coupled with his dueling skills and a good guy all around. No, Harry hadn't known him well- but knew he didn't deserve to die.

"You," the future Death Eater stressed the word,"are excused." Then he turned around to his gangle of 'friends', dismissing us. James looked like all he had heard of 'evil, slimy Slytherins' had just been confirmed.

And Harry was looking very pissed. He jabbed Malfoy in the back with his index finger (nothing like the tentative tap from James earlier), and spoke in a deadly tone- that honestly must've sounded a bit funny coming from an eleven year old, a wee firstie.

"But you," Harry stressed the word 'you' mockingly in imitation of Lucius, " _aren't._ " The Slytherin let a shocked expression fleet over his face before it was replaced by calm indifference. He clearly wasn't used to being disobeyed. "Move your bags, or lose them. It's very simple, even those goons should be able to grasp the concept." Harry chucked a thumb in the direction of Crabbe and Goyle with a sour twist of his lips. Another boy, older than Malfoy, maybe a sixth or seventh year, stepped towards them.

"Well, what exactly are a pair of newbies going to do? Go on, I want to hear this one."

"You don't have to hear it," Harry said softly and maliciously. A part of him said this was a very bad idea, but something about mini Death-Eaters-in-training really struck a chord in Harry.

Plus, he had his own bone to pick with at least half of these Slytherins. And their children. So, with a deceiving smile that the real Riddle would've been proud of, Harry's inner Gryffindor took over and the towering collection of Slytherin luggage promptly disappeared.

Vanished.

Into thin air.

Harry (Hadrian- He really needed start thinking of himself as Hadrian) nearly smiled at the dumbfounded looks of horror on the majority of the snakes' faces.

He _really_ couldn't be sorted into Slytherin- he'd be murdered in a week, tops, for this little stunt.

Before they could do anything to him or James, Harry ( _Hadrian!_ ) grabbing the formerly mentioned boy's arm and weaved through the crowd- but not before catching the calculating state of the older boy that had scoffed at them and asked to be told what they would do.

 _Well,_ Harry thought, _I told him. Just in a rather round about way._ But, no matter what, Harry couldn't get the sight of those piercing, judging eyes out of his mind. It reminded him of second year when his Parsemouth abilities were discovered. It reminded him of Snape's gaze boring into him with slight apprehension, fear, and calculation.

"This way," he muttered to James, who had quite nearly hurtled into a Prefect. Harry was overjoyed it wasn't a Slytherin, though. He realized, now that his Gryffindor-ness had quieted back down, he had just created an enemy out of an entire house.

 _What a great start to a great year,_ Harry thought sarcastically. With that, he, James, and the rest of their year mates followed the swinging beam of light that was Hagrid's lantern- down the dark path of pine needles and dirt to the awaiting boats.

* * *

"This can't be safe." Everyone rolled their eyes at the boy's antics. "What if someone falls out and drowns? That could make Hogwarts liable, you know."

"If you don't shove it, I will shove you. Talking anymore could make you liable, you know." Harry stared out of the corner of his eye at the one who had not-so-subtly threatened the portly Peter Pettigrew. It had been disturbing to met his father, but he had never knew James-had nothing to compare to. However, when a voice called to him,

"Oi! Mind if I board with you?", and he was looking into the face of Sirius Black all of a sudden- Harry was at a loss for words.

His godfather, his only family, whom he had watched fall through the Veil still smiling, was crouching next to him.

And eleven.

And wanted to board his boat with him. Harry, of course, let him. Their boat left earlier than the others, but that was James' fault. He was the one who pushed off dock while Hagrid shouted after them- "You was to go after me! Yer all ahead!" James looked bashful but somewhat pleased, too. His Maruader side was out to play.

Harry choked down a sob he didn't know was there. _I'm fine,_ he reassured himself, _you knew there was a very strong chance of seeing him again-_ then it sunk into Harry. Remus would be here. Lily and- oh dear lord- Snape. The dour Potions Master, who may now never be a Potions Master, would be here, and Harry was the only one who knew about his home problems. Should he do something?

"Hadrian?" He had spaced out again, and James looked slightly worried. This was happening to him too often. He needed to stop dwelling and just live his life. For himself and only himself, for once.

And wasn't that a nice thought?

"I'm telling you guys-" Pettigrew was talking again, but he never got to finish. Sirius had stood up, clearly intent on getting his point across, and swayed back and forth as though trying to make the boat just shake a little. He was trying to scare Peter, while also proving that there was no chance of anyone falling and drowning.

Too bad it didn't work out that way.

With a whimper of fear, Peter lunged for the edge of Sirius' robe, as if to pull him down. Instead, Sirius leapt away and promptly landed on Harry who went flailing backward, with Sirius in tow.

The boat lifted with their momentous falling, and James and Peter found themselves being thrusted forward as the boat quickly flipped. James, Sirius, and Harry were a tangle of limbs and appendages- flopping in the dark, glittering Great Lake. James sputtered violently- spitting a mouthful of water at Sirius who immediately dunked his head under the water to avoid the spit and sadly took a still-attached Harry with him. When up again Sirius glared at James, though admittedly half-heartedly, and turned to Hadrian.

"Sorry," he said with an easy, doggy grin. Harry grinned back.

"You can say that after you remove your robes from my legs. I can barely move." Sirius went a dark, flushed red that Harry had never seen on him before.

"Sorry," he repeated, muttering this time while fumbling with the hem of his soaked uniform and Harry's soggy ones.

Harry wanted to laugh, but felt he shouldn't. He wasn't sure why. Peter broke the semi-awkward silence.

"See," he whined. "Now we have to swim to shore." James rolled his eyes.

"Don't be stupid, we'll flag down the next passing boat."

Convienently, it was Hagrid, who shook his head and muttered under his breath about 'dangerous ideas' and the 'next generation'. All the same though, he pulled them up and out of the bone-chilling waters. When they sat in Hagrid's large boat, shivering, he apologized.

"Yer going to 'ave to wait to dry off. I'a, well, ain't allowed to be doing magic, strictly speaking. Yer going to 'ave to ask Professor McGonagall to spell yer robes clean." James let a look of horror shadow his face.

"My da's talked about her! She's super strict, and has no leaning for 'Nasty, little, buggering troublemakers like you'. At least that's what he always tells me." Sirius stared at James, interested. But for a different reason then Harry thought.

"Don't get along with your folks?" He asked, looking hopeful. Harry felt horrible- Sirius wanted someone to relate to his situation. When James eyed Sirius strangely and shook his head no, Harry decided it was time to sacrifice some dignity.

"Wish I had parents to not get along with," he said morosely. Sirus whirled on him, appearing just a bit guilty.

Probably feeling bad that he had parents and he hated them, and Harry didn't have anyone. Which Harry found slightly ridiculous, as he'd met the shrieking portrait of Walburga.

How could someone like that?

"I stay at an orphanage in London, the kids there are horrible. Don't even get me started on the the matron, Ms. Cole, one time she-" Harry stopped abruptedly, he had almost spoke too much. He wanted Sirius to feel better, to know he wasn't alone, not spill out his embarrassing and painful childhood.

Which, wasn't really even his. Though honestly his real childhood was no better. Ugh, the Dursleys.

"So James, what's your life like, huh? Any good tales to tell?" James launched into a story about the time he set the Manor on fire, and Harry felt proud he had so effectively changed the subject. But he didn't miss he gleam in Sirius' eye- the look Hermione usually got when she was figuring out a clue.

Harry just really hoped his life wasn't what Sirus was interested in- because if he was as good as Hermione at detective work, then he was going to get more than he bargained for.

* * *

Harry shook again. This was stupid. And completely James' idea, which he foolishly went along with.

He was FREEZING. And by the looks of hatred his other soaked companions were occasionally throwing James, he wasn't the only one. When the doors of Hogwarts opened, they hung back, because James didn't want McGonagall to see them. Because he didn't WANT to be dried off. He wanted to 'make an appearance'. He wanted to 'stick out'. So they stood at the very end of the line of first years, waiting to enter the Great Hall for the Sorting.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Harry said, at the end of his patience, "let me at least throw on some warming charms. We won't dry off, but we wouldn't die of hypothermia or look stupid shivering like leaves in the Hall."

"Yes," Sirius practically moaned in relief, "please. I don't know how, that's why I didn't do it." With a wave of Harry's wand, the odd group was sighing in happiness.

Right then, the huge entrance to the Great Hall swung open with a deafening creak.

Harry eyed the enchanted starry ceiling, and the long tables with their extensive silverwares. He took in the High Table and the twinkling face of an alive Albus Dumbleore, who, for once, wasn't in the seat of the Headmaster. It was different, but the same.

Harry was home.

Now, he only had to convince an old, stubborn Hat that he belonged in Gryffindor. Oh, joy.

But even with that problem looming on the horizon, Harry still felt that strange feeling- that feeling of belonging. The one he had never really had, the one he hadn't realized he was missing until he had it. it was odd, that this felt so right.

But Harry was okay with that.

Harry was okay.

* * *

Author's Note: yay, another chapter done! Any comments are appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Just so you know, rating may most likely change in the future- but nothing worse than Teen, for violence and very, very mild language. Yeah, thought you might want to take note of that.

And I hope that it was noticed how, in chapter one, it said 'one year earlier'. That first section was at the end of the year, sort of like a taster of what's to come. I had fun writing the different crimes they committed because, rest assured, they committed them- well, it's complicated. You'll see! Now though, it's at the beginning of the year, obviously.

* * *

 _Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't._ _Hermione says that he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall_ _thinks he's still adjusting to 'a perfectly nice, normal life.' But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war, he misses it._

 _So in search of happiness, of true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a year of research he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if it meant he could leave Harry Potter behind him. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him._

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

Harry eyed the enchanted starry ceiling, and the long tables with their extensive silverwares. He took in the High Table and the twinkling face of an alive Albus Dumbleore, who, for once, wasn't in the seat of the Headmaster. It was different, but the same.

Harry was home.

Now, he only had to convince an old, stubborn Hat that he belonged in Gryffindor. Oh, joy.

But even with that problem looming on the horizon, Harry still felt that strange feeling- that feeling of belonging. The one he had never really had, the one he hadn't realized he was missing until he had it. It was odd, that this felt so right.

But Harry was okay with that.

Harry was okay.

* * *

Chapter Four

 **The Sorting: Of Students and Situations (there might have been a snake involved)**

* * *

"Potter, James!" Harry watched nervously as James was sorted- he was next. With a loud shout, the Hat announced Gryffindor, and James swaggered for the red and gold table. Professor McGonagall (who, when taking in the appearance of him, Sirius, James, and Peter, scowled and muttered a drying charm while giving one of her infamous speeches on irresponsibility and stupidity) glanced down to the sheet of names once more, and Harry saw her eyes widen just slightly. A thoughtful look took over her face.

"Riddle, Hadrian." Harry walked with purpose, not pompousness, to the crooked stool. His heart was thumping. He didn't have anything against Slytherin house or its traits- just the people within sickened him. Oh, and he happened to piss off a large section of them on the station, which really wouldn't do his credit any favors. _I'll be fine, I'll be fine,_ he chanted in his head. Before he knew it, the tattered black brim of the Hat slid over his eyes. He had to admit though, he was enjoying how no whispers had broke out when his name was called, like when he was Harry Potter.

 _"Mr. Riddle, let me see..._

 _Oh! Mr. Potter... How sly of you. You are cunning and sneaky and slippery and clever- have ambition for yourself and will do anything to achieve your ends. Not unlike the Tom Riddle I had conversed with but a few years ago._ Before Harry could protest (or scoff, Riddle's sorting was so not 'a few years ago') that he didn't belong in Slytherin (because it was clear where the Hat was going with this), the Hat spoke again. _But you have heart, Mr. Potter. A brave, chivalrous heart. You've just buried it for a while. You want happiness, because despite reaching your ends- you didn't feel complete. I hope you all of luck in-_

"GRYFFINDOR!" Harry grinned at a hooting James and Sirius, but felt odd after the Hat's words. He knew the Hat wouldn't tell anyone who he really was, that wasn't the issue. It had seemed the Hat was sad to put him in Gryffindor- he had a feeling the Hat was just as disappointed with this generation's Slytherins as Harry.

He glanced to the silver and green table, to find the sixth (or seventh) year from earlier practically rolling his eyes with a look that plainly read, 'of course he'd be in Gryffindor'. Harry made eye contact and, feeling particularly dangerous, winked.

Live life while you can, right?

And looking at the older Slytherin from across the room, that wouldn't be long.

* * *

He had forgotten how wild Gryffindor parties could be, and now wasn't sure how he ever did.

Perhaps things were more 'party-er' in the 1970s? Who knows. Harry enjoyed it though, as Harry Potter he has been to busy fighting evil and after the war everyone sort of drifted apart. No time for parties, really.

And, as he gazed over the dim Common Room, Harry decided that was a down right shame. James and Sirius had their arms on each other's shoulders and were standing on a desk, swaying from side to side singing some unrecognizable (to Harry) wizard tune. It was slow and sweet and oddly romantic. The best part was how they sang it with straight faces.

A red haired girl was scowling at James who had yanked her to her feet and spun her around. Lily. Harry smiled nostalgicly at the beginning of a rivalry that would end in love.

Rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he made his way toward the stairs that would lead to the boys' dormitory. As much as he loved watching his godfather and father in their element- he hadn't slept in a week or possibly longer.

A lot of preparation had gone into making his little trip possible. When he did nap he was talking with Dumbledore in that odd dreamscape place, which always gave him more to think about, which meant more headaches that prevented him from sleeping. The endless cycle.

And, of course, he wanted to see how else his appearance had changed besides from fixed vision in the dormitory bathroom.

The stairs seemed a million miles long, but finally Harry struggled to the top and stumbled blearily into the bathroom. His sleep deprivation was catching up to him.

Rubbing again at his eyes, Harry then gripped the edges of of the sink to steady himself before raising his head to stare into the mirror. It was then he realized how literally the spell had taken his words.

His eyes still shined like the Avada Kedavra curse, an unearthly green. His skin was pale but not waxen, on an aristocratic face. His hair was somewhat the same deep midnight-black, but now if the light hit it a certain way, it was more of a rich brown. And instead of the Potter trademark mess, his hair was sculpted and refined with the slightest of a curl on the ends. In other wording, he was a darker-haired, green-eyed, smaller-framed, paler Tom Riddle. The spell had taken him very, very literally, it seemed.

Harry would have probably screamed in horror at his features (and their Tom-Riddleness) if it wasn't for the fact he was exhausted. So, with resignment to his fate, Hadrian crawled into his bed, the one by the window, as it had been back when he first attended Hogwarts.

He fell asleep to the distant shouts of his raucous fellow housemates, and muffled music.

* * *

 _GAHHH!_ With a snort, Harry tumbled from his bed and ended up tangled in the sheets he had dragged down with him. Ignoring his undignified awakening, he climbed precariously to his feet, still wrapped from head to toe in cloth.

"Who the hell, sets an alarm for FOUR IN THE BLOODY MORNING!" James, in the bed next to Harry, groaned and pulled his pillow over his face, mumbling something that sounding suspiciously like 'who shouts at four in the morning'.

Harry ignored that too, in favor of glaring at the auburn-haired student whom had meekly raised his hand from the other side of the room. "Next time," he growled, "put a Silencing Charm around your bed so you don't make the rest of the house go deaf along with you." The boy nodded quickly. Harry started yanking at the sheets he was encased in aggravatedly. "Don't even have classes today," he muttered quietly.

The boy heard though, and turned scarlet. The rest of the dorm glared at him, all equally annoyed by the wake up. James just pressed the pillow into his face harder- if that was possible.

Later, Harry would realize why the boy with the early alarm seemed familiar- now he just dived back into his mattress with a contented sigh. All too soon though, the sun's rays were glaring through the window and breakfast time was upon him.

He pulled a reluctant James and Sirius to the Common Room with him, and they all started to trudge down towards the Hall with a few other stray groups of students.

They never made it there.

"AHHHH!" Came the shrill-ish scream. " IT'S ON THE STAIRS!" Harry rolled his eyes while simultaneously wincing at the loud voice. He turned the corner with James and Sirius and headed for the last staircase to the Great Hall, where the supposed beast was. James hung back a bit.

"Wait," he said uncomfortably, "what if there is a- a thing? It could be- you know- poisonous animal or something like that." Sirius looked to concur with that statement, and so Harry was surprised when he didn't move from his side. It seemed like he had made a friend in the Black heir.

"James, even if it were poisonous, we're wizards. We can do magic, 'member? If it's so bothersome, I'll just vanish it. Now where's that Gryffindor fearlessness gone?" Harry said it all lightly and slightly teasing, which James responded well to. He stepped forward and dramatically thrust out his chest. Then, flexing his scrawny arms, he said-

"Let that thing try and touch all _this._ " Harry and Sirius slyly glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes. They couldn't help it.

They burst out out into loud guffaws, and clutched their sides in breathlessness. James looked a tiny amount offended.

"It's not _that_ funny," he protested. Sirius pushed himself upwards on the hallway's wall for support and gasped out-

"Yes-it-is." When James went looking to Harry for back up all he got was a swift shake of the head no. Pouting, James folded his arms and began to walk away in a spiff. Harry and Sirius followed, still holding their stomachs and sputtering incoherently. As the three walked down the stairs, Harry turned to James.

"See, I told you there probably wasn't a-" Harry's next words were forever lost as a hissing, spitting _something_ propelled itself onto his face. He pulled at it, stumbling around and trying to avoid being bitten by its sharp teeth.

So, maybe there was a beast.

Just maybe.

And, maybe, it was attached to Harry's face.

A scaly body whipped Harry's neck with strength, and he realized what had propelled itself onto his face.

A snake. Great.

He heard a voice snarl, _Defend! Defend!_ and Harry thought the most horrifying thought of all. Had time and universe travel somehow given him back the soul piece of Voldemort? That was the most logical explanation for the reason of why Harry could suddenly understand Parseltongue again. In his confusion and whirling train of thoughts Harry opened his mouth, forgetting the James and Sirius were there.

 _Be still, I mean you no harm._ The snake shifted so quickly Harry almost missed it. Instead of trying to embed its teeth into Harry, it was now wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Like a terrifying and over-grown pet.

While Harry had forgotten the existence of Sirius and James, they had not forgotten him.

"You just hissed at it," James said lowly, "and it stopped trying to eat your face. Are you a- can you- did you- was that Parseltongue?" He tripped over his words, staring at Harry hoping for a denial, clearly. Harry nodded slowly, well aware of the snake still around his shoulders. James stepped away, and asked quietly, "Will you make it attack me?" Harry was quick to reply.

"No, never. I didn't even know I could speak to snakes until now. I know though, of the bad rap Parselmouths are given. Will you tell anyone?" James appeared to gather himself together, then have an internal debate. Finally he spoke.

"No, never." He parroted. "I don't think you would hurt anybody. Besides, why would I sell out my first friend at Hogwarts? It's not like I've said anything about the train." Harry was touched, and surprised though he didn't show it. James considered them friends? After a ride of the Express, and a night's rest? His father was very trusting, innocent. God, Harry wished he still had that part of himself.

"What about the train?" Sirius inquired, eyes eager. "Oh, yeah, I won't say anything either. I grew up being taught that Parseltongue was, like, a sacred gift. Anyway, what can you really do in Parseltongue? Talking to snakes doesn't make them your slaves or anything." Harry took in his godfather's naivety with a grin. Parseltongue meant Parsel Magic which was extremely powerful and that, yes, you could control snakes as slaves. But Sirius' version worked so much better for Harry.

Both him and James ignored Sirius' question about the train.

"So," he said, "ready to eat?" Sirius and James exchanged looks.

"Uh," James began, "you have a snake on your shoulders." Harry nearly smacked himself. Duh.

 _May you please come off I?_ The snake dipped its head respectfully and slithered down his body to the floor. As it made its way to the other side of the staircase, Harry heard a voice drift from below them.

"Still haven't found my luggage, sir... " Harry immediately looked to the large, Pythonic snake making its way calmly away as the footsteps of one Lucius Malfoy and some adult came closer and closer. Before he could move, an angry, haggard face was in his.

"Where are my bags? I've searched all night, nothing. So tell me where they are!" Harry was about to reply in a perfect Slytherin manner, but a hissing, spitting _something_ had launched itself onto Malfoy's face.

The snake.

Its mantra was different this time. _Defend! The castle and the speaker! Defend!_ Malfoy was screaming his head off, he had lost all composure. Slughorn, the adult that had been with Malfoy, was shouting with his wand in the air.

"Stay still, boy, so I can get rid of it!" James leaned towards Harry.

"Um, shouldn't you tell it to stop?" Both Harry and Sirius replied happily.

"Nah."

And when all was looking up, a clipped voice spoke from behind them.

"Evanseco." It was Professor McGonagall. "All of you to my office." The stern Professor demanded with a disappointed glance in her Lions' direction. Harry, Sirius, James, Malfoy, and Slughorn started to follow.

"Not you, Horace." She scolded the other teacher. The round man smiled and said 'silly me', but Harry was sure he didn't imagine the relieved smile on his face.

Harry sighed as his stomach rumbled, and Malfoy shot him a dirty look that promised pain.

A great start to a great year, right?

* * *

Author's Note: Gonna say it right now, not a fan of this chapter. Oh, well.

Sorry it's been a while, packing and preparing for my trip to Europe. I'll try to not take as long next time.

Thanks for everyone's support! You guys are all the best. (I would type an emoji smiley face if I could)


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: I apologize for the wait, dear readers! I returned from Europe just last night and immediately thought of my stories- my poor neglected stories. I was just so busy that I had to postpone any continuation. But today I release two chapters as an apology.

Vielen Dank an alle , die diese Geschichte zu lesen!

Yes, I have thanked you all in German for your support and attention to my little story, because my 'mother tongue' is German. But I am very proud of my English, thankyouverymuch.

My favorite review- though I hate to show favoritism (they were all awesome)- for chapter four was by _lilmisadiva-_ it simply said **LMBO.** Possibly the shortest review I've ever had, but heart warming to read. (Dramatically puts a hand to heart)

* * *

 _Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks he's still adjusting to a 'perfectly nice, normal life'. But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war._

 _He misses it._

 _So in search of happiness, of true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a year of r_ _esearch he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, in an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if it meant he could leave Harry Potter behind him. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him._

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

"Stay still, boy, so I can get rid of it!" James leaned towards Harry.

"Um, shouldn't you tell it to stop?" Both Harry and Sirius replied happily.

"Nah."

And when all was looking up, a clipped voice spoke from behind them.

"Evanseco." It was Professor McGonagall. "All of you to my office." The stern Professor demanded with a disappointed glance in her Lions' direction. Harry, Sirius, James, Malfoy, and Slughorn started to follow.

"Not you, Horace." She scolded the other teacher. The round man smiled and said 'silly me', but Harry was sure he didn't imagine the relieved smile on his face.

Harry sighed as his stomach rumbled, and Malfoy shot him a dirty look that promised pain.

A great start to a great year, right?

* * *

Chapter 5

 **Promises Were Made to be Broken**

* * *

"Do you find this funny, hm?" Her face was like that of the sky when a huge storm was approaching. Though not as intimidating as her older self it was still quite scary. Sirius promptly choked on his laughter, while Lucius sent a malicious glare of disgust in his direction. Probably thought that he was shaming the Black family with his un-Pureblood mannerisms. Harry buried the urge to spit in the Malfoy heir's face.

By the time they had all reached her office, the Professor was considerably calmer- but still thin-lipped and stern-faced.

"I will not deal with this! Not again. Perhaps you believe yourselves to be all that, but your little prank could've killed Mr. Malfoy!" Sirius and James shared a confused look. A prank? Professor McGonagall thought they had set the snake on Malfoy?

"You cannot do these sorts of things and expect to get away with it. I've had pranksters of your likes before- but this is beyond any 'prank' I've seen. This could've cost a life. Not at all funny!"

"Professor-" James began.

"No, Mr. Potter. I do not want to hear your excuses. Want I do want to hear is who's brilliant idea this was." She gazed demandingly downward at James, but Harry could've swore he saw her eyes flicker quickly in his direction.

"I'm telling you Professor, we didn't do anything. Really!" James protested hotly. Sirius nodded his head emphatically. Harry nearly grinned at the two of them, but schooled his face blank as McGonagall turned to him. However sincere and true the words James said were, he knew the Transfiguration teacher needed sound logic to follow by. And logic said that they were the perpetrators. He said otherwise.

"What evidence do you have that are solidifying your claims against us? What does it say when the head of Gryffindor immediately jumps to the conclusion that her own first year students had attempted to injure, possibly even kill, another student? Until you have a piece of foolproof evidence to pin the events of today on three first years- your own Lions no less- there is no reason behind punishing us." Harry realized how adult he sounded in the moment, but also realized he was in a new world, new life. He could be anyone now. Like an eleven year old with a strangely solemn demeanor, and/or manner.

In the moment, he finally really felt like just Hadrian Riddle arguing with Professor McGonagall. Not Harry Potter pretending to be someone else.

"Innocent," he said softly, "until proven guilty." The woman stared at him in silence. It could've been hours or seconds, but eventually a gleam lit her eye. It was of respect and resignation. She knew he was right.

"All of you return to your activities. And Mr. Malfoy, as you are here I might as well inform you now that we have located your baggage." The slight happiness in the blonde's face went away at her next words. "It was found at the bottom of the Lake and your items are refusing to be dried. I simply mean that everything you had is accounted for, but is waterlogged. It won't dry naturally, and magic does nothing. All the same, the caretaker placed it all next to your dormitory bed."

Harry quite nearly smiled. It had been a tricky bit of magic, not to mention it was wordless and wandless. The amount of emotion he had in that second though, helped complete the spell. Malfoy left the office in a rage, and practically slammed the door. Harry left the office without Sirus and James, saying he wasn't hungry anymore.

"You sure you don't want to grab a bite to eat?" Sirius asked.

"Really, I'm good." Harry responded. "Probably going to study a little more Transfiguration. McGonagall seemed tough." Sirus had nodded and then left to the Great Hall.

Harry then exchanged a pleasant goodbye with Professor McGonagall for the sake of being on good terms and polite.

"I am sincerely displeased that we had to meet in this fashion, Professor McGonagall. I'm Hadrian Riddle, one of your first years. I look forward to your class."

"Do you?" She said a bit coldly.

"Yes, ma'am. I was particularly interested by the theory of the Animagus. It is labeled as an interpretation of the soul, but the form is known to change in situations. So, is it believed the soul itself is changing, or is the theory wrong? Or maybe a little off? Transfiguration is a very precise magic, but at the same time so little is specified about it." Professor McGonagall honestly smiled.

"The theory of the Animagus is a debatable subject, but not nearly as much as the theory of changing matter. We should discuss sometime, Mister Riddle."

"A brilliant mind to converse with? It would be an honor, Professor. Any way I can improve my knowledge of magic. Besides, I really don't think James or Sirius would want to talk about the theory of changing matter." The Professor laughed a little.

"I am aware I blamed you three unjustly, I had a rough night yesterday. Stress got to me and I lashed out unprofessionally and rudely. Just promise that the three of you won't be up to any mischief this year, I need a peaceful bunch for once."

"Basically you responded to stress like a human? It's fine, Professor. Everyone has their days. Perfectly understandable. And I promise that we will stay out of trouble, stick to the rules like glue." Harry dipped his head respectfully and turned and opened the door. Before he could step out into the hall though, McGonagall called out.

"Hadrian? Do you- I mean- well, are your parents around?"

"No, ma'am. I live at Wool's Orphanage for Boys." Boy does magic like her irony, he thought to himself.

"Oh." She said, quietly. "I apologise."

"It's alright." Harry said as quietly. "Not like I ever knew them."

"Well, I suppose everything happens for a reason." She looked thoughtful and a bit distant, as if her mind was on something else.

"Doesn't mean we have to like it." Harry said a bit harshly. "But you are right. Everything happens for a reason." He looked the Professor in the eye. "For a reason, good or bad."

Harry left the room with a deep burning hatred rising for Voldemort in his gut. A bad reason had killed his parents. And he had killed Voldemort for a good reason. But now this was a different universe. Voldemort was probably out there somewhere lying low while Grindelwald wrecked havoc.

But not for long, Harry decided. He was going to find Voldemort, he thought, and stop him before he really got started.

He was going to kill him.

Lost in thought, Harry walked the halls aimlessly. "I don't know what your playing at, muggle boy, but I warn you this is a dangerous game to play." A voice spoke from behind him. "Don't involve yourselves with our house, our people. Otherwise, next time, there will be a price to pay." Harry nearly snorted, but instead remained facing the opposite direction.

"What price? To whom is it paid?"

"Stupid questions! Just heed the warning, know who is above you." Harry let silence settle a little before talking.

"I know who is above me," Harry said lowly.

"Good." The stranger said with satisfaction. Harry had long since ruled out Malfoy, too deep a voice.

"But clearly, you don't." Harry knew that was a risky move- but went through with it anyways. When he eventually turned around, no one was there.

He had planted the seeds of wariness, confusion, interest, dislike, and the odd respect that the Slytherins would have to give for his prowess with the luggage trick and the manner he handled everything in.

It really all was just a game.

* * *

"I'm sorry, again, for this morning. I had just wanted to be prepared for the day and- well, sorry. Really, sorry." The kid from the morning with the four a.m alarm smiled sheepishly as Harry stood by the portrait door he had just came through with one eyebrow raised. He was about to speak but- "My name is Remus, by the way. Remus Lupin."

Harry's eyes began to burn. It was all too much, shock was coming in. Remus, whom he had seen still and cold and dead at the Battle of Hogwarts was standing here, young, whole, alive, and in front of him.

"It's fine, I promise. Please, if you'll excuse me." Harry brushed past the auburn head of his old Professor and toward the dormitory. He needed to collect himself- his thoughts.

Harry sat down on his bed, and before he knew it he had drifted into sleep.

 _"Your time, your place. Your time, your place." Those words echoed in the empty air, a mantra._

 _"What does that mean!?" Harry shouted to the heavens. "What does that mean?!"_

 _"Your time, your place. Your time, your place. Your time, your place."_

 _"Why?" Harry asked in frustration. "Why is it my time, my place?"_

 _"You belong. You are home."_

 _"I don't understand."_

 _"You have never belonged, now you do."_

 _"I don't get it!"_

 _"Welcome back Hadrian."_

Harry woke being shook back and forth. Out of habit he grabbed his wand and notched it under the person's neck. He quickly lowered upon realizing it was James.

"Sorry, I thought-"

"Shhhh." James whispered. Harry frowned but then took in how the dormitory looked. Everyone was in bed and sleeping. A sliver of moonlight was trickling in from the window. He must've slept through the whole day. But the dream had felt like no more than a minute or two.

"Sorry," he whispered, "I thought I was being attacked." James looked at him weirdly but then grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door, slowly inching it open. He then took Harry down to the common room where Sirius sat in one of the poofiest chairs sleepily.

"Time to explore," the shaggy haired boy whispered happily. Harry glanced to the common room window. It was pitch black outside, clearly past curfew. And as he, Sirus, and James made their way into the corridor quietly as possible, all he could think of was the promise he made to McGonagall.

Oh well.

Promises are made to be broken, right?

* * *

Sorry again for the wait, you guys.

Thosetooweaktoseekit out.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: here is the second part of my two chapter release- couldn't do it last night as I had prior engagements. I apologize again, which I seem to do a whole lot.

Thanks to all the wonderful people for their alerts and favorites and reviews! Your response to this story keeps me going.

* * *

 _Harry Potter fulfilled his destiny, and the world is at peace. But he isn't. Hermione says he's haunted by the war. Ron has no idea. Ginny can't understand. McGonagall thinks he's still adjusting to a 'perfectly nice, normal life.' But Harry knows, he isn't haunted by the war._

 _He misses it._

 _Without it, what is his purpose? He feels at a loss. So, in search of happiness, true fulfillment, Harry turns to the Darker Arts for help. After a year of research he finds a spell intended to solve all his problems. Welcome to 1971, an alternate universe where Harry Potter doesn't exist. Hadrian Riddle, however, does. Perhaps a bit of a hastily concocted alias, but Harry Potter was willing to take it, if it meant he could leave Harry Potter behind. Hadrian Riddle was what was in front of him._

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

"Sorry," he whispered, "I thought I was being attacked." James looked at him weirdly but then grabbed his arm and dragged him to the door, slowly inching it open. He then took Harry down to the common room where Sirius sat in one of the poofiest chairs sleepily.

"Time to explore," the shaggy haired boy whispered happily. Harry glanced to the common room window. It was pitch black outside, clearly past curfew. And as he, Sirus, and James made their way into the corridor quietly as possible, all he could think of was the promise he made to McGonagall.

Oh well.

Promises are made to be broken, right?

* * *

Chapter six

 **The Door in the Floor**

* * *

The clock struck ten with finality, and the man in the shadows paused his pacing. With a soft creak, the door which he had eyed with both trepidation and exasperation for the past hour opened.

"Please, do come in." The shadow man stepped forth-no- _glided_ forth to the inside of the office. "I apologize for the wait time, I was catching up with an old friend."

"No apologies are necessary, I am not in too much of a rush."

"Please, seat yourself." The shadow man did. "You are not one to make calls in the dark of night, so rushed and urgent." The office man's voice lowered. "You are most certainly in a rush, so I do apologize most sincerely. Now, tell me what you wish to speak of."

A moment of heady silence coated the room before-

"Grindelwald." The office man sucked in a long, deep breath and listened intently to the shadow man's words. "Monday, I don't know how. But my sources are clear it happens Monday. My sources are not misinformed, I made sure."

"You tell me this, why?"

"Because the target is Hogwarts."

"It is impossible."

"Apparently not."

"Will you stay and aid?" Another silence laid in the room.

"Of course I will. Hogwarts is my home." The office man sighed.

"I will have Madam Marron set up a room for you for the next couple of nights, Tom."

"Thank you for your consideration, Albus."

"It is not an issue." The shadow man dipped his head and walked out of the office as silently as he had came.

Unbeknownst to one Tom Marvolo Riddle and one Albus Dumbledore, down a couple of floors three first years were exploring the castle after curfew. Unbeknownst to one Tom Marvolo Riddle, one of those three shared his name and Dumbledore knew it. And Dumbeldore didn't want Tom to know it. Unbeknownst to one Albus Dumbledore, Fate doesn't play by his rules.

* * *

"Does anyone have a clue where we are?" Sirius asked. Harry did, but he couldn't say so. Instead he was forced to walk the castle and pretend like he had no idea where they were.

"Nope!" Spoke James cheerfully. "Not an inkling! Oooh! More stairs!" Sirius and Hadrian made eye contact and mentally groaned in unison. They trudged forward with sore feet, the castle seemed to sprawl on forever.

"Come on now, dear." A motherly voice drifted from the upcoming staircase. "Just down this way, and a bit left." James froze in step, eyes wide. Sirius backed away slowly. Hadrian grabbed James' shoulder and forcefully dragged him to the wall. In the dark they waited for whoever it was to pass them by. As shoes clattered down the stone steps, the three pressed themselves against the wall even harder.

Then wind began to whistle gently in their ears- for the floor had began to move down with them on top of it, in complete silence. They still faintly heard from above as they shifted down- "Just here Tom dear, do you want help settling in?"- before they hit the bottom of the hole.

Sirius was smiling wickedly, Harry could barely see it by the faint line of torchlight from above.

"This is what I expected from Hogwarts," he whispered excitedly. "Trapdoors, secret passageways, and stuff!" James nodded fiercely in agreement.

"That's great and all," Harry shot back, "but do either of you know how to get out?" James continued to grin like an idiot.

"Nope! Not an inkling!" He said. Harry groaned and pulled out his wand. For show he whispered,

"Lumos!" A small light appeared at the tip of his holly and phoenix feather wand. He had been overjoyed to receive his old wand when he went to Ollivander's, it was like reuniting with a long lost friend.

Sirius and James looked at the wand in awe.

"You've gotta teach me that one!" They chorused in unison. Harry shushed them and began to look around the tiny space they had landed in. It seemed they were about fifteen feet down in a five foot by five foot room. He didn't see any way out, but as Harry turned a glint of silver caught his eye. He walked over closer and leaned down.

A small but intricate snake was carved into the wall, shiny and rearing its head back as if about to bite. Harry tried his luck and whispered to it in Parseltongue. _Open._ Nothing happened. _Open for the heir of Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four._ Immediately the wall faded away to reveal two sets of stairs. One going up, one going down. James and Sirius rushed over to where Harry was, and both went to go down the descending stairwell. Harry grabbed both their cloaks.

"What do you think you're doing? Up! Now!" They hung their heads in disappointment, but went up the stairs.

This staircase didn't just go to the next floor- it kept whirling upwards until the three were sure that they had trekked higher than the heavens. But finally a door appeared that let out directly across the hall from the Gryffindor portrait hole. As soon as they stepped out the door it vanished into smooth wall.

"That was amazing!" Sirius whispered with joy. "We've got to find all the other passageways in the school!"

"Then we can pop out wherever and scare people!" James said happily, a dreamy look on his face.

"Yeah!" Sirius said, or at least he meant to. Instead he yawned half way through so it came out more like Yeeeaaaahhhhh.

"We shall continue our adventures in the morning!" James said.

"You guys go on ahead," Harry said. "I have something I need to do."

* * *

He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know if it was true. But it was too much of a coincidence.

Hadrian Riddle was Tom Riddle's son.

It was the conclusion Dumbledore had come to, the most logical explanation. He would reassure the other teachers that there was no relation between the two. He didn't want anyone going around saying Tom Riddle's son had arrived at Hogwarts.

On the chance there was a relation, he would make sure the name Hadrian Riddle was not mentioned around Tom. Because if this was Tom's child, the very child that Dumbledore had been told was killed in one of Grindelwald's raids without Tom aware that it even existed, then Albus was in for trouble. Because eleven years ago he was still on good terms with Gellert Grindelwald, and he had planned out a raid to eradicate the Riddle line.

He had attempted to kill little Hadrian Riddle and his mother and thought he had succeeded. He of course felt guilty later, but thought it for the best. If it would be anything like Tom, he was doing the world a favor. Plus Gelllert needed proof that Albus still sided with him. What way to better prove that then plan a raid that would be focused on killing some baby and its mother?

Dumbledore realized now all the horrifying mistakes he had made, realized how twisted and cruel the war made him. He had wanted nothing more then to start fresh and be free from the Great War still raging with Grindelwald, but then Hadrian Riddle shows up and reminds him of the horrific past deeds he had committed.

No matter what, Tom could not discover what Dumbledore had attempted all those years ago. He couldn't even discover that Hadrian was any relation of his. As far as Tom would ever know, Hadrian Riddle does not exist.

It was for the boy's own good, really. Tom Riddle does not know of compassion, love, or caring. He would most likely ignore the child at best. At worst... well, Albus preferred not to think of that.

He sighed sadly and tiredly. He was going to have an interesting couple of days. Well, it is a big castle. Perhaps they'll never meet without any interception from me? Wishful thinking, Albus admitted to himself.

* * *

Author's Note: Up next...

Slytherin dorms are invaded

the snake returns

tea with McGonagall

Tom gets bored

people end up in the hospital wing

I swear that the last two are not in any way involved with each other. Promise. Really.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I'm on a roll!

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

It was for the boy's own good, really. Tom Riddle does not know of compassion, love, or caring. He would most likely ignore the child at best. At worst... well, Albus preferred not to think about that.

He sighed, sadly and tiredly. He was going to have an interesting couple of days. Well, it is a big castle. Perhaps they'll never run into each other without any interference from me.

Wishful thinking, Albus admitted to himself.

* * *

Chapter Seven

 **The Lion in Snake's Clothing (or was it the other way around?)**

* * *

Harry knew it was a bad idea, but he also knew Malfoy would continue to harass him if he didn't do this. Honestly, he just did not feel like dealing with that at all.

And that is why Harry was sneaking into the Slytherin first year dorms via Parselmouth passages.

He didn't know all of the passages, as he discovered a new one less than an hour ago, but he knew a fair few. One in particular opened up from the huge painting hung above the mantel of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, which he was headed for now. If he was lucky, Harry would sneak in and un-curse Malfoy's trunk, then sneak out how he came in.

It sounded simple enough, but as he slowly swung the painting open the difficulty of the task began to set in.

Every step he took he half expected someone to jump out at him and yell "Gotcha!" with relish. Which was stupid, but didn't change his thought process.

Before he knew it though, he was in the dorms. He moved with catlike grace to the still wet trunk (courtesy of his spell) and muttered a few pieces of Parselmagic. By morning, the trunk and everything in it would be good as new.

Harry mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done. Nearly yawning with exhaustion despite his day nap (why was he sleeping so much? Maybe universe traveling can cause serious jet lag) Harry made his way to the fireplace.

Instead of going directly to the painting and leaving though, he found himself staring into the flickering flames. He could just barely make out his face mirroring in the dancing fire.

What had he done?

Why had he done it?

Harry fell back into an armchair, head in hands. What had possessed him to think that some vague spell with barely any explanation could fix everything?

When he discovered the Inner Incantation he was overjoyed, and plunged right in like the Gryffindor he was. It _was_ vague, the despriction merely said 'to find where you truly belonged', then instructions.

The spell just felt so right to Harry.

Yes, here in this world he felt more comfortable and at home, Merlin knows why. Still, how foolish a move. He didn't think it through. After a year (a year!) of work, he just rushed through everything and packed little more than the Maruader's Map, his Cloak, and a couple Dark artifacts.

He didn't even say goodbye. Perhaps the old gang had fallen apart, but that didn't mean he didn't remember with fondness and longing the good ole days where all they had was each other. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville- the least they deserved was a goodbye.

But he was here, now. And he was gonna find out why he was so at ease somewhere that should be harsh, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable to him.

And he was gonna find out what to do with this opportunity, to be anyone he wanted to be. A clean slate. A fresh start.

He could be Harry.

Just Harry.

With that happy thought, and a slight quirk upwards of the lips, Hadrian dropped off into sudden sleep, the fire still dancing around and the common room still dark, quiet, empty- except for one troubled sleeping boy.

* * *

Quite nearly seven hours later in the Hogwarts staffroom...

* * *

"Six in the bloody morning," one muttered.

"He's off his rocker," one muttered back.

"Great start for the year," came one sarcastic comment.

"All of you, shush. Show a little decorum, respect." Minerva McGonagall, the fierce Transfiguration teacher, reprimanded.

It was right then the very man who had called this particular staff meeting together, walked in the door.

With a cheery smile, no less. Oh, the audacity.

"I have news." He spoke, with a pleasant mood wrapped around him like a blanket. "An old student has returned to Hogwarts for the weekend, to help aid us."

"Aid us with what?" Interrupted one crabby professor.

"He wishes to aid us with the apparent attack Grindelwald is launching on Hogwarts, this upcoming Monday," stated Albus Dumbledore. He was no longer smiling, but seemed to grasp at the cusps of his old cheery disposition, as if he were afraid to lose it.

You could hear a pin drop in the staff room.

And they had the floors covered with rug.

"Tom." Minerva stated. "He's the 'old student', isn't he?" Albus nodded. Minerva took in a deep breath. "As we've breached the topic of one Tom Riddle, I must ask, as most of us have probably been wondering-"

"If Hadrian Riddle is Tom Riddle's son?"

"Well," Minerva hesitated, "it's just that I was thinking about the rather unsavory rumors circling Tom these days and I remember him from school. Coupled with what you've warned us of- well, I thought that there was possibility that Hadrian could be the same." She seemed ashamed to admit the last part. "I felt horrible afterwards, but the thought had definitely crossed my mind."

"I can assure you," Albus said, "in full honesty, that Hadrian Riddle and Tom Riddle are in no way related. Riddle is a rather common Muggle last name, and they look as alike as they look different." Minerva smiled.

"It is good to have clarification, but it doesn't particularly matter to me anymore. I've talked to him- he's a genuinely sweet boy. Poor thing is orphaned, can you believe that?"

Albus shared a sympathetic face with Minerva.

* * *

"WHO SETS AN ALARM FOR SIX ON A SUNDAY!" Shouted James, red faced and bleary eyed.

"You sound like 'Adrian." Slurred Sirius from his pillow.

"Sorry," the random boy replied, "at least I didn't set it for four." He pointly looked to Remus, who covered his face in embarrassment.

James growled in response and flopped back down on his bed. Sirius looked up again at the sound and spied from the corner of his eye Harry's bed by the window.

Which was empty.

"Hey, James?"

"Whaaaat?" He groaned in response.

"Where's Harry?" James sat up, looked at Sirius, then looked at Harry's bed.

He stared quizzically at the untouched sheets.

"Huh."

* * *

Tom was bored.

Very bored.

So bored.

Very, very, very bored.

I have to wait until Grindelwald shows up, Tom thought.

I don't like waiting.

People wait for me not the other way around, he thought tiredly, as if explaining two plus two equals four to a small child.

So bored.

* * *

Where the hell am I?

Then it hit Harry.

He never left the Slytherin common room last night.

A small thumping of footsteps was coming from the dormitory stairs, making its way to the common room.

In a tizzy, Harry stood and promptly realized he wouldn't have enough time to make his escape through the painting.

He was trapped as some random Slytherin began to make his or her way down. So, there was only one thing left to do.

Sit, grab a book from the bookcase, open it, and act as casual as possible. Like he spent every morning in the Slytherin territory.

Soon enough those small steps began to pad towards him.

"Excuse me, do you know where- eep!" A short Slytherin first year girl looked wide eyed at the Gryffindor emblem on his robe.

"Yes?" Said Harry patiently and politely. _Act casual, this is normal. Act causal,_ Harry thought.

"Uh," she said, "well I was wondering if you knew where Slughorn's office is?" She was uncertain and distinctly confused at what was happening.

"Professor Slughorn," he gently reprimanded her. "And if you take a left from the common room and then take another left and a right, you'll find it by a painting of a grumpy, grey-haired, old man."

"Thanks," she said shyly- before bolting out the door.

Harry thought this was the time, he could make a break for it! But more Slytherins came down, all giving him odd looks and whispering to their friends, but he didn't have any real problems until the baby Death Eaters began to clutter the common room. Eventually it seemed all of Slytherin had come down to the common room to stare at the strange first year Gryffindor who had ended up among them.

A seventh semi-growled at him. "You that kid from the train station?" Harry turned a page of his book with concentration. "What you doing here Lion?"

"Reading, if you can't see." Said Harry calmly. "I find it more peaceful here to study then the Gryffindor common room. They are good natured, but don't know the definition of peace and quiet. You don't mind do you?"

The seventh year had nothing to say to that.

* * *

"Where could he be?" James moaned. "We've been looking for hours!"

"Uh, James, it's only been like fifteen minutes." Sirius reasoned.

"Your point?" James asked, completely serious.

"Nevermind," sighed Sirius. "Just keep walking, you lazy yapper."

* * *

He needed to talk to the boy. He wasn't quite sure what he'd say, but he needed to talk to him. Maybe give him some task to keep him out of the way for the next couple days.

But he was no where to be found.

For a scary moment, Albus considered that Tom had found Hadrian Riddle and whisked him away- but he dismissed it because Tom would've had stormed to his office and made his rage known.

Where could the child be?

* * *

After an hour of the silent staring, Harry stood.

"Where you going?" One Slytherin asked, trying to act disinterested.

"It's seven thirty- I'm going to grab an early breakfast." Harry replied honestly and politely. Being polite never hurt in a room full of confused and agitated Slytherins.

But before he had made it to the door, it opened to reveal a beaming Slughorn.

"House unity at its finest!" He boomed. "A Slytherin student came to me this morning and said a Gryffindor gave her directions- a Gryffindor she found in her own common room! How ever did you get in, my boy?"

Harry knew how to play the Slughorn game.

"I have my ways, sir." Harry shared a conspiratal smile with the Potions teacher. The man laughed heartily and clapped Harry on the back.

"I look forward to seeing you in class. What's your name, son?"

"Hadrian. Hadrian Riddle." The man's smile seemed to tighten a bit, but then it loosened as if he thought of something calming. "If you'll excuse me, sir, I wish to have an early breakfast."

"Yes, yes, of course. Be on your way." The professor said hurriedly. Then turning to all the gathered Slytherins- "I am sure you will all do your best to accommodate Mr. Riddle and promote House unity?"

A chorus of yes sirs filled the common room as Harry slipped away.

* * *

So bored. Nothingness surrounds me, Tom moaned mentally.

So... hungry?

No. Just bored.

* * *

Harry turned the last corner before the staircase out of the dungeons when he spied two students going at it.

"You little rotten scum of the earth-"

"Know it all idiot-"

"Bloody coward-"

"Annoying git-"

"Stupid-"

"Ugly-"

"Choke on your own stupidity-"

"Send you to the hospital wing in pieces-"

A Ravenclaw and a Slytherin, both upper years, were fighting like two street muggles.

Harry had to duck to dodge a Severing curse.

Okay, two street muggles who occasionally try to painfully curse one another. Harry wanted to keep walking, but the good in him wouldn't allow it.

"Hey! You two, break it up!" Neither even paused. Then was when Harry removed his robe and rolled up his cuffs.

It was gonna get messy.

* * *

James stared at the stairs down into the dungeons. Now it had been an hour, and one of the few places they didn't check was the dungeons.

He swallowed deeply. It wasn't that dark down there, was it? James nodded to Sirius and they began their descent.

* * *

With a quick flick of his wrist, the Ravenclaw student was flung against one wall and the Slytherin was pinned to the opposite.

"Got your attention, now?" He released the two, they had learned their lesson. It could have been a teacher.

But Harry didn't take into account how much they hated each other- or how the Slytherin boy was slightly deranged.

"Diffindo!" The Slytherin shouted at Harry's retreating back. He turned- but not in time. The spell struck his chest, causing a decent cut that stretched across his body.

* * *

Nothing ever happens in this school, Tom complained to himself.

Not even, like, a decent fight or anything.

So boring.

* * *

The boy had obviously not expected Harry to still be standing after that hit, so when a quick Stupefy can flying his way he didn't even have a second to register.

He went down quickly.

Harry turned to the Ravenclaw, a shrouded anger in his eyes, blood running down his front. The Ravenclaw put his hands up placatingly and edged away in clear fear.

* * *

Dumbledore had found Hadrian, and was a bit frightened.

An unconscious student laid a couple meters away from Hadrian, whom was covered in blood, heaving.

But he pushed aside his superstitions, and sent a Patronus for that new Healer intern, Poppy Pomphrey.

"Mr. Riddle, are you alright?"

"Minor Diffindo, sir," he said calmly. "I used Stupefy to stop the other student's completely unwarranted attack on me." A voice shouted from behind,

"Harry!" Hadrian spun around to see James and Sirius making their way towards him.

"What did you call me?" He asked Sirius.

"Uh, Harry. It's shorter than Hadrian and I thought-" Harry cut him off.

"Thanks, I like it." Dumbeldore knew if he were to look in a mirror right now, his eyes would be twinkling. Perhaps, just maybe, the boy wouldn't be like Tom. Tom would never allow someone to get close enough to him so that they could have a nickname for him.

* * *

"That's it! I'm leaving this room!" Declared the young man. Tom was bored, and neeeeded to remedy that. It wasn't as if he could summon his followers for entertainment within the walls of Hogwarts.

And, yes, he now admittedly called them followers.

He walked up the corridor and took in a most curious sight.

Blood.

Dumbledore.

An unconscious student.

Two Gryffindors, and a Healer ushering some bloodied student away.

* * *

"Ah! Tom, good to see you up and about." Dumbledore called to the man just lingering a little ways up the hall.

Dumbledore silently added to himself, _and good you didn't get out and about sooner. You just missed Hadrian. Thank the lord for Poppy arriving when she did._

* * *

Author's Note: promise there won't be so many scene jumps next chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: As a gift for the new month- chapter 8! A bit late, but whatever.

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

He walked up the corridor and took in a most curious sight.

Blood.

Dumbledore.

An unconscious student.

Two Gryffindors, and a Healer ushering some bloodied student away.

"Ah! Tom, good to see you up and about." Dumbledore called to the man just lingering a little ways up the hall.

Dumbledore silently added to himself, _and good you didn't get out and about sooner. You just missed Hadrian. Thank the lord for Poppy arriving when she did._

* * *

Chapter eight

 **Getting Caught Up To Speed**

* * *

Has Harry ever mentioned he hates the hospital wing?

Because he does. So very much. He had been lying in bed, being watched like a hawk by a teenaged Madam Pomphrey while his wound healed for over twenty minutes. Which, in his estimation, was far too long.

Harry couldn't help thinking to himself that using Parsel Magic would have taken no longer than a couple of minutes.

His second day at Hogwarts, and he was already under bed arrest. How stupid, really. Now he had to sit here and waste away time. Well, at least most of his morning was productive. He had gained Slughorn's favor with the right attitude, and now had the Slytherins confused by him. Should they hate Harry or what?

He felt a little evil. But, of course, not like in a Dark-Lord-looking-for-mass-control way.

But not all went well this morning, and he wasn't just referring to getting stuck in a strict nurse's care.

Dumbledore. The man had always been a sort of enigma to Harry, but today there was something in his eyes Harry had never seen before. Or at least, never before seen directed at him.

There wasn't an exact word for it. Just something different, off, distrusting in the Headmaster's face. A distant look, as if when peering down at Harry from his half-moon spectacles, he wasn't really seeing _Harry._

Then again, here he wasn't Harry. He was Hadrian Riddle. And as much as Harry hoped that Dumbledore was not drawing conclusions (false ones at that!) about his last name, the man tended to meddle and mix in matters that were not his. He tended to assume.

Harry however had no clue if those conclusions even mattered. He had no information on current wizarding world affairs, he wasn't even sure Voldemort was a thing. Perhaps Riddle hadn't even been born here. Harry could maybe just be acting paranoid about the Dumbledore thing.

Though even as he thought this, Harry knew it was not true.

* * *

"If I may inquire, why is it that the newest hallway decor seems to be blood and unconscious student?"

"A mere misunderstanding," Albus said in a disregarding manner.

"Doesn't appear to be. Tensions running high between houses, I presume?"

"You don't have to presume, Tom. I know that you are well aware of the escalating issues among the Hogwarts houses." The old man's voice was tired now.

"How was the boy injured, the one being taken away by that new nurse?"

"Took a Diffindo to the chest, Madam Pomphrey should heal him right up." Tom nodded and smiled pleasantly, as if he particularly cared. Small talk rather _was_ his area of expertise, but that didn't mean he actually enjoyed it.

"I suppose you apprehended the attacker with a Stupefy?" Tom glanced to the still unmoving student. Rodulphus Lestrange. Pity, that he was so useless to have gone down with one spell. His father had always been rather advanced, apparently the talent hadn't been passed on.

"No, in fact that was young Hadrian's doing. He didn't take well to being cursed." Tom was mildly surprised.

"He didn't go down after dealing with the Diffindo?" Apparently the abilities of Hogwarts' students was rising. "How old is this child again?"

Dumbledore hesitated.

It was only for a fraction of a second, but Tom caught it.

"This is his first year, here at school." Now that upgraded Tom's mild surprise to mild appreciation, not to mention Dumbledore's hesitation- which added a small spark of interest. Hadrian, hm?

Oh, what did he care. Lord Voldemort had better things to do with his time than wonder on the abilities of the Hogwarts first years.

* * *

Harry threw another cursory glance around the room, this time though something caught his eye.

Sticking out just slightly from under a pillow, was a paper.

A newspaper, to be exact.

Natural curiosity took hold, and he walked over to the paper.

Madam Pomphrey was gone for the moment anyways. Off to fetch healing creams. She wouldn't have to know of his little traipse out of bed.

It was dated July 17th, 1971. So, earlier this summer. It was like someone was watching Harry, and heard him complain about not knowing anything political. Because this paper cleared everything up.

 **GRINDELWALD GRABS HOLD OF GRINGOTTS**

 **As most are aware, the notorious Dark Lord Grindelwald seized Gringotts and everyone within hostage nearly a week ago. Now sources say that the goblins are planning to make a deal with the devil.**

 **If the goblins end up siding with the Dark wizard, I am afraid- as we all should be -that this may be the end of the Wizarding World as we know it. Numerous powerful items are within the treacherous depths of Gringotts, and with money supply cut off the British wizarding nation would be lost.**

 **The Minister was not available for comment.**

Harry turned the page to find another shocking headline hitting him in the face.

 **RIDDLE RESCUES HUNDREDS**

 **In a raid led by some of Grindelwald's best, Spell Master Thomas Marvolo Riddle (age 31) detained the oncoming attack, so that everyone within the building they were planning to burn down, escaped with no harm done.**

 **Everyone, I am sure, applauds his bravery and skill, but some others may wonder why he had even been there that night. The building held a private Ministry function, not to mention there have been unsavory rumors circling the genius, the facts together don't bode well for Riddle's possible intentions. Perhaps this a ploy to gain favor of ministry officials, to gain their trust, for something more devious?**

 **He spent many years after his Hogwarts graduation traveling the world, and worked as an intern at Borgin & Burkes for a good while, a store down Knockturn Alley well known for its Dark artifacts.**

 **Tom Riddle a hero, or an up and rising enemy?**

 **We are all grateful for his aid, but in these times you never know who you can trust.**

 _ **Written by Leanne Skeeter, Reporter for the Daily Prophet**_

Harry wasn't sure what to think. He liked to believe that Voldemort was just as evil here and active, but as it was he was in an alternate universe. It was possible Tom Riddle hadn't even became Voldemort. Judgement would have to wait, it seemed.

Then, of course, Grindelwald. Whom apparently was not defeated yet. Yeah. Oh and Riddle was only 31 years old, so that meant the timeline was a bit screwed up too. It just keeps getting better and better.

To sum up the bare facts:

Riddle was 31, and not yet acknowledged as Voldemort.

Grindelwald is the leading Dark force right now.

Dumbledore was acting strange.

Harry was labeled with the last name Riddle. Joy.

He felt like he had lived here all his life, which was odd and needed to investigated.

Harry needed to find out the specifics of the spell he used to get here- time to be a Ravenclaw and research.

He was currently staying at Wool's Orphange in the summer, which was a creepy coincidence.

That just about summed it all up.

Madam Pomphrey still hadn't returned from wherever she went to get those creams, and Harry was getting more restless. The chest wound was now a dull ache, so in Gryffindor fashion he made his escape.

He turned the corner from the infirmary, checking behind him constantly. He felt like any second the nurse would return. But he rounded the corner and barreled down the stairs without anyone stopping him.

With caution though, he slid one more look backwards. In this moment, he collided with a very solid something in front of him. Harry felt his chest injury smart horribly as he tumbled to the ground on top of the poor person he had walked into.

The person had dropped their books on the floor when Harry hit them, and Harry immediately scrambled to pick them up while the person began to stand back upwards.

With the books balanced in one hand, Harry stood.

"I apologize," he said, "I hadn't been paying attention to where I was-" Harry stopped dead in his words when he made eye contact with the man he had toppled over. A very familiar man, who was eyeing him in surprise and apprehension.

His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry knew him better as Lord Voldemort.

* * *

Author's Note: Cliffhanger! Don't hate me, I just couldn't help it.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Here it is- the first encounter between Tom Riddle and Harry Potter, whom is currently under the alias Hadrian Riddle.

Not too complicated, am I right?

Oh, and **Special Mention** goes to Anahissa, my 100th Hadrian Riddle and the Crimson Lance story follower! I may or may not have squealed when I got the email...

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

With caution though, he slid one more look backwards. In this moment, he collided with a very solid something in front of him. Harry felt his chest injury smart horribly as he tumbled to the ground on top of the poor person he had walked into.

The person had dropped their books on the floor when Harry hit them, and Harry immediately scrambled to pick them up while the person began to stand back upwards.

With the books balanced in one hand, Harry stood.

"I apologize," he said, "I hadn't been paying attention to where I was-" Harry stopped dead in his words when he made eye contact with the man he had toppled over. A very familiar man, who was eyeing him in surprise and apprehension.

His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry knew him better as Lord Voldemort.

* * *

Chapter 9

 **The Unlikely Invitation**

* * *

Voldemort peered at him, his face betraying nothing more than a mild disgruntlement. If Harry was anyone else, he would be sure that the Dark Lord had been startled by the collision, and nothing more.

But Harry was Harry, and he could see that it was not, in fact, the accident that was bothering him. Something else was going on in the man's brain as he looked Harry over.

All Harry could hope was that he didn't draw anything from their similarities in looks- to be fair Riddle looked decently different from when he was a child. He was no longer lean in that unhealthy I-live-in-an-Orphange way. He had filled out considerably and was a good couple of heads above Harry's small stature. His hair was the same, but his face no longer retained that gaunt look.

Harry knew it was perhaps too much to ask for, but he wanted this small mercy.

Okay, huge mercy.

Why did nothing ever go right?!

"Excuse me, I apologize for my odd staring. You just remind of something, someone. By chance, have we met before? What's your last name? Perhaps I see a family resemblance." Tom Riddle spoke to Harry, who nearly had his mouth drop open.

Seriously?

 _Perhaps I see a family resemblance?_

The man had to be kidding, but as far as Harry could tell he was speaking honestly. Though it was a little blunter than the Voldemort he knew. Maybe Fate was on his side for once, eh?

"No sir, we have not met before, and my family is dead." Harry answered semi-honestly. Well, they hadn't met in _this_ universe.

"You are quite sure? I am often not this struck by someone's...appearance." He was genuinely thoughtful about it. Harry felt like the man was fraying his last nerve, though.

"Quite certain. I have lived in an orphanage all my life," he snapped. Then hesitantly and with a somewhat sarcastic tone added, " _sir._ "

Tom Riddle's dark eyes flashed- whether with amusement or anger, Harry wasn't sure.

"Well, do continue on your way. You never know when an irate Healer might pop out." Harry stared at him.

"How do you-"

"You rubbed your chest in pain, and I was conversing with Dumbledore earlier about a certain first year whom had been hit with a Diffindo to the chest. A Healer would never let you go so early." Harry felt an inscrutable look pass over his own face. "Go on, I am not hindering you."

Hindering you? Gee, who talked like that anymore. It looked like Harry knew where adult Snape got his speech patterns from.

All the same, Harry continued to walk in the direction he was headed. But he never heard the sound of Riddle's feet walking away and, though it could've been his imagination, he felt the prickling of staring eyes boring into his retreating back. Though at the end of the corridor when he turned around, no one was there.

 _Wow,_ Harry thought, _that went surprisingly good. Now, to figure out what exactly Riddle is doing here. Great, I can add that to the list._

* * *

The boy had been odd, Tom decided. He looked almost fearful- but unwavering in stance- when near Tom. He looked like he was expecting something, and Tom didn't miss the shocked expression on his face when he said he saw a family resemblance. The boy was almost incredulous.

But why?

He wasn't lying, the kid had looked annoyingly familiar. Tom quickly noticed that the child had evaded his question successfully, he never got the boy's (Hadrian's, I believe is what Dumbledore said) last name.

He watched the boy walk away, and as he reached the other side of the hall, Tom turned to leave himself- never seeing the child turn around again to look for him.

* * *

Heart threatening to pound out of chest, Harry kept going around the corner. His stomach growled loudly, and he was suddenly reminded by the pain in his abdomen that he hadn't eat since the Welcoming Feast.

He decided that breakfast couldn't be over yet, at most it was like eight thirty in the morning. So, he headed for the Great Hall which was bustling with the student body.

As he swept into the dining hall, the collection of Slytherin students that were there turned to eye him. In the center of the close knit group was Lucius Malfoy, with a contemplating and curious look. He turned to his gangle of lackeys and associates, then said something.

Harry was too hungry to care. He plopped down at the Gryffindor table heavily and reached for a slice of pre-buttered toast. With relish he bit into the bread, but made sure to appear as stately as possible while doing so. The Slytherins tended to watch their prey- and this prey didn't want to look like some stupid mouse just waiting for execution from the enemies above.

"Hadrian! You alright, mate?" James was racing up to him. "Dumbledore said not to bugger the Healer lady, so we- I mean Sirius and me- went back to the dorms. You all good?" He threw a worried look at Harry's chest. Just then Sirius came trotting in.

"Harry! Glad to see you out alive. Considering who that was, surprised it wasn't worse than a Cutting Curse." Sirius turned around a bit and glared in the general direction of the Slytherins. "Rodolphus Lestrange. Seventh year Slytherin, likes to dabble in Dark Arts. You're lucky, mate."

"Should have been faster," Harry said in honest sorrowfulness. "Then that idiot wouldn't have landed a hit." James and Sirius slid into the seats across from him with expressions of disbelief.

"Harry, that was not your fault. Lestrange is a git." James said through a mouthful of waffle.

"Yeah, what Jamie said." Sirius said while hungrily eyeing a towering pile of pancakes. James stopped chewing for a second.

"What did you just call me?" But he still had food in his mouth, so it sounded more like, "Wa do jah urst all mwah?" All the same, Sirius answered.

"Jamie." James swallowed deeply and choked a bit. Sirius pounded on his back while he tried to gulp pumpkin juice.

"I don't like it."

"Too bad, Jamie."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, I won't call you that."

"Good."

"I'll call you Jamie."

"What?! No!"

"What isn't there to like?"

"Everything."

"Harsh, Jamie."

"Are you being serious? Just let it go. It's a horrible nickname. Like a girl or something."

"Of course I'm being Sirius, who else would you want me to be?"

"That is the worst joke I have ever had the pleasure of hearing-"

Harry smiled faintly at the two boys' antics, and began to tune them out in favor of eating.

Then something strange happened. As Harry reached an arm out to get an apple, another hand from behind him snatched it away- to just hand it to him.

Harry turned, and found himself face to face with Malfoy.

"Wandless. Wordless." The Slytherin stated, still holding out the apple. "A first year. Assuming from the surname, muggle born. _Assuming,_ of course. Who exactly are you?" The tone was altogether pleasant and genuine. A bit confused perhaps. It was clear from the first two words he was talking about the trunks incident.

Harry gently plucked the apple from Malfoy's hands. The blond looked down in surprise, he seemed to have forgotten the fruit was there.

"I do believe I'll be studying today again. I'll need my peace and quiet, and I'll find it in the same spot as before." Malfoy's eyes widened in recognition, he had obviously heard of what Harry said to that questioning seventh year in the Slytherin dorm earlier that morning.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "Now I ask a favor." Harry was surprised again by this second year, he was very forward. No subtlety lay in his words. "May you eat with the Slytherins for lunch? Professor Slughorn is very excited to promote House Unity, and he specifically used you as an example. We all look forward to getting to know you."

Once again there was an underlying honesty. And that was a bit scary, the Slytherins honestly wanted to get to know him. He knew the wordless and wand less magic was a risk, but he'd hoped they would chalk it up to a trick.

But, clearly, they weren't as stupid as their children.

"Yes, I do accept your most generous offer. I, also, look forward to getting to know all of you." Malfoy half smiled, dipped his head, then walked away.

"It was delish, if you honestly want to know!"

"This is completely off topic!"

"You asked, I answered, Jamie."

"If this continues, you're gonna find your wand in the morning when you wake up where the sun don't shine."

"We can improvise."

"Go on, then. Give me your best."

"J-man? Jama? Jamesie? James-a-nator? Jam? Jim? Make a decision, Potter!"

"How about...JAMES?!" Sirius rolled his eyes and broke away from their argument suddenly, to address Harry.

"Was that Malfoy? What did he want?" Harry contained a grin, it was adorable how wrapped up in their fight the boys were not to notice a conversation two feet away.

"Oh, nothing. Just being a bother," Harry said, "same old, same old." He bit into the apple with a crunch, wondering how the two other Gryffindors would take to him sitting with the Slytherins at lunch.

Oh, well.

Not to mention, Harry's lengthy to-do list. That was gonna take some time- and maybe an Invisibilty Cloak. Or a Map. Who knows?


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Classes are looming in the near future, and Grindelwald's attack draws nearer. **So sorry that this took longer than usual! Please don't hate me! I made it longer as a semi-apology!**

Gotta say though, I have a fav review for last chapter- I cracked up laughing reading it.

Written By Theta-McBride:

Love it :-D

Lol. I find it funny how he didn't recognize him.

He seems familiar...who do I know that looks like that. *glances at mirror as he passes* ...maybe he just has one of those faces...

Thanks for everyone's continued support, you guys are all the lights of my day!

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

"It was delish, if you honestly want to know!"

"This is completely off topic!"

"You asked, I answered, Jamie."

"If this continues, you're gonna find your wand in the morning when you wake up where the sun don't shine."

"We can improvise."

"Go on, then. Give me your best."

"J-man? Jama? Jamesie? James-a-nator? Jam? Jim? Make a decision, Potter!"

"How about...JAMES?!" Sirius rolled his eyes and broke away from their argument suddenly, to address Harry.

"Was that Malfoy? What did he want?" Harry contained a grin, it was adorable how wrapped up in their fight the boys were not to notice a conversation two feet away.

"Oh, nothing. Just being a bother," Harry said, "same old, same old." He bit into the apple with a crunch, wondering how the two other Gryffindors would take to him sitting with the Slytherins at lunch.

Oh, well.

Not to mention, Harry's lengthy to-do list. That was gonna take some time- and maybe an Invisibilty Cloak. Or a Map. Who knows?

* * *

Chapter ten

 **I Spy With My Little Eye... Another Spy?!**

* * *

Harry should have know better.

It couldn't have just been an ordinary affair.

Oh no, that was too plebeian for the great Slytherin house.

It needed to be a production, a big show of 'we are better, accept it now you filthy peasants.'

Which is exactly what got him into this mess.

Why, oh why, did he agree to this again?

Harry thought back to the happenings right after breakfast when he had first accepted Malfoy's lunch invitation.

Better known as the happenings before everything went downhill.

It hadn't seemed that dramatic at the time...

* * *

"So, say we check out that passageway again? See what the path down leads to, eh?" James nudged Harry's shoulder with an exaggerated wink, as they walked out of and away from the Great Hall.

Harry grinned half heartedly in return.

"James, do you even know how to find that passage again?"

"You are a dream crusher."

"Dramatic much?"

"Crusher. Of dreams."

"Jamie, chill-ax. It's all good, great, fantastic." Drawled Sirius. James' left eyebrow twitched at use of Sirius' nickname for him. Harry watched the two begin to bicker again, and drifted into thought.

How was he going to tell the two that he was eating with the snakes at lunch? To be very fair, they had taken the Parseltongue extremely well- but this may be the straw that broke the camel's back.

"I thought it was a hinkypunk or a cow, how was I supposed to know that-"

"Wait, how can you mix up a hinkypunk or a cow with-"

"You weren't there! It looked suspicious at the time, considering that there was more than one of them!"

"Still weird as a one-legged, tutu wearing, Grindelwald birthing Merlin. With a cat fetish."

"Jamie, I'm telling you- wait. Grindelwald birthing?"

"Yep."

"That crosses a significant line."

"It really does."

"It disturbs me." Sirius said in wonder.

"I bet so." James smirked.

"Say it again!"

"A one-legged, tutu wearing, Grindelwald birthing-"

"Hey, guys?" Harry stopped the conversation of James and Sirius from its disturbing fall into a deep, dark rabbit hole. "How would you feel..." Now his dorm mates' eyes were on him. "IfIsatwiththeSlytherinsatlunchbecauseLuciusMalfoyaskedmeto-" He took a breath. "BecauseSlughornwantstopromoteHouseUnityand-" Another breath. "Ihappenedtobeintheircommonroomthismorningcausethingshappenpleasedon'tjudgeme-" Deeper breath. "Would you mind?"

A moment of silence.

"What did you say?" James asked, scrunching up his face, while Sirius simultaneously said,

"I don't know what's happening right now." Harry grimaced.

"If I sat with the Slytherins at lunch because Lucius Malfoy asked me to, because Slughorn wants to promote house unity, would you mind?" Harry decided to not re-mention that he has been in the Slytherin common room. No knowing what problems that could cause.

"I don't mind, I guess, if the teacher wants you to do it and all. But, I mean, you're Muggleborn and grew up in an Orphange, why you?" Sirius wondered aloud. James nodded along.

"Dunno," Harry said shrugging and containing his internal glee at Sirius' acceptance. The Maruaders' leaders were much more lenient in their earlier years at Hogwarts in regard to Slytherin house.

"Wait, you're a Muggleborn!" James exclaimed.

"Uh yeah, have _you_ heard of the Riddle pure blood family?" Sirius said in a condescending and mocking voice, a bit incredulous. Harry nearly jumped when Sirius said 'Riddle'. Seems like he had forgotten again that _he_ was 'Riddle'.

"No, just wondering how a Muggleborn would know about quidditch and the quidditch national teams and have the ability to watch the national games." James said. Sirius glared at him and huffed.

"He wouldn't, stupid."

"But he did say so- on the train. I was talking about quidditch and asked what his favorite team was, and he answered. We talked a bit about it, and Hadrian knew what he was talking about." Harry swallowed slightly. Looking at the shrewd gleam of interest glistening in James' eye, he now realized that this was the shred of James that would be his adult self one day.

Careful, catching details, and one of the best Aurors that the Ministry had ever had in ranks.

"I did some reading up on the Wizarding World- you know, new world, wanting to explore, all that. Quidditch seemed real interesting, and I did a little extra research on it. Flying sounds amazing."

And like that, the gleam was gone.

"We'll get you a chance to try out a broom soon Harry- a nice one too. I gotta Fulgurs 300- Fulgur means lightning in original Latin. That means super fast!" James grinned excitedly and squirmed about like he tended to do when happy, Harry noticed.

"Sounds great!" Harry replied, not faking the enthusiasm. He hadn't gone flying in a long time- too long.

"Hey, just try and ignore Bellatrix, okay? At your lunch thing? She's been in a horrid mood since Saturday. She's the one with the frizzy hair and deranged eyes. And remember, I can't help whom I'm related to." Sirius said sheepishly.

"Sirius, she wouldn't have been in a horrid mood, if you hadn't gone and-" James was interrupted.

"She deserved it! It was just a joke. No harm done, geez." James still looked at Sirius with one questioning eyebrow raised.

"What exactly did you do?" Harry asked, both worried and intrigued by the answer.

"I dyed her hair. HARMLESS." Here Sirius looked pointedly at James.

"Then you jinxed her shoes to tap dance until she apologizing for calling you a blood traitor. Which, was a rather impressive piece of magic, my friend-"

"Why thank you, James." Sirius cut in with a smirk.

"But she still didn't apologize, she just undid the jinx and then proceeded to attempt to hex our bits off. Not cool, Sirius. Not. Cool." James shifted unhappily as if remembering the occurrence. Harry frowned.

"When did this happen?" Sirius shrugged carelessly.

"Saturday. After lunch. Y'know, the day you basically slept through?" Harry's frown receded, but he did wonder if he had missed anything else noteworthy during his hibernation.

"Passageway, Harry, come on?" James' mind had gone back to the beginning of their conversation. "It would be _fun_ ," he practically whined.

"James, we've talked about this. Do you know how to make the passageway reappear?"

"Well- no."

"So how would you get into a passage you can't open?"

"I wouldn't," he said with a pouty voice and a scuffle of his toes.

"Exactly," Harry huffed.

The three walked in a companionable chatter through the mostly empty halls. There was the occasional upper year rushing by in a frantic hurry, or a lost first year bumbling down the hall and craning their neck around as if that would help them gain direction. Or the rare group like themselves, just walking and talking and enjoying the Hogwarts of a mid-morning Sunday.

"Mr. Riddle," A stern voice with clipped words called out from behind. Sirius and James stiffened at the authoritative tone, but Harry smiled serenely. He recognized after many years that that voice was _meant_ to be frightening. 'Keeps them in line', McGonagall used to say, then smiled with stern lips at Harry. But that was a different McGonagall- then that McGonagall he once knew.

This one barely knew him, and was calling for him by an incorrect last name. Not that she knew that, of course.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" He said smoothly and calmly while turning around to face her.

"The Headmaster would like to have a word with you, Mr. Riddle. In his office. If you'll follow me now, I will be taking you there."

Sirius and James looked awed.

"Second day here and you're already in trouble with the _Headmaster_." Sirius whispered.

"You're my role model, did I ever tell you that?" James put in with a dazed look on his face.

"Mr. Riddle." Professor McGonagall repeated. Harry said a quick goodbye to James and Sirius, then hurried to follow his Head of House. Before they had gotten far though, a silver Phoenix swooped down on them. It seemed to convey something to Professor McGonagall, then suddenly she and Harry were walking a different direction.

"It seems we will be meeting the Headmaster in Professor Slughorn's office. It is closer, and where the Headmaster currently is." A Patronus, that's what the silvery magical bird was, Harry realized. Probably Dumbledore's. It had told McGonagall to go elsewhere, just then.

So with a purposeful march, the two headed for the dungeons.

"Minerva! Jolly good to see you, here visiting my humble abode!" Slughorn boomed with cheer, waving a hand wildly to usher them inside. "Would you like a cup of tea? Something, perhaps, stronger?" He said mischievously. Harry, for the life of him, couldn't decide if the man was joking or not. If not, it was certainly not an appropriate thing to be mentioning around a student- first year no less.

From the look on McGonagall's face, she agreed.

"I am quite alright, Horace." Before she could say more, maybe even reprimand Slughorn for his misplaced sense of humor, an auburn head of hair with large silver streaks strode into the office.

"Ah, I see you could manage to join us, Minerva. Tea, by any chance?" Harry was a bit offended that, despite the fact he was the one Dumbldore had summoned, not a single adult had yet taken account of his presence, much less had spared time to address him.

Sure, not like the student is an actual person or anything.

Only after a meaningless few minutes of chatter, in which they proceeded to Slughorn's private parlor room (draped in deep greens and soft grays) and ended up calling a house elf for some earl grey, Dumbledore finally set his periwinkle eyes on Harry.

"Mr. Riddle, no need to look just so tense- I assure you, you are in no trouble. This was merely a call of curiosity." Harry forced himself to unwind a bit, and placed a gentle expression of relaxation on his face. Honestly he had been expecting to be in some sort of trouble, Dumbledore was not wrong.

"Curiousity, sir?"

"I was chatting with Professor Slughorn here, and he mentioned the most fascinating thing. It seems someone ended up in the wrong common room, last night." Harry nearly face palmed, of course Slughorn would tattle to Dumbledore. The man wasn't as nearly as stupid as Harry liked to think he was.

"Well sir, I did actually find my way to Gryffindor the other night, but in the morning decided Gryffindor is a very, um, _loud_ house. I wanted to have some peaceful reading time, and found myself in the dungeons. I happened across the Sytherin portrait hole, and was messing around trying to guess what the password could be. On chance, I ended up getting it right, so I thought might as well go in. I found it very peaceful for reading, and had planned to stay for only a little bit, but a fellow first year came down and caught me. So, I stayed longer considering I was already seen."

The three teachers looked at him, with understanding and soft smiles at the 'innocent' tone he used. McGonagall looked a bit unhappy with the depiction of her House, but let it be.

"You know," he added, "I really hate the stigma everyone seems to plaster to Slytherin house. An entire house cannot just be bad. It's like saying, 'oh you're in Slytherin? You must be an, excuse my language, total arse!' It's ridiculous."

"Indeed, Mr. Riddle. Indeed." Dumbledore murmured appreciatively. "Well, we have taken up more than enough of your time. Please, go. Join your friends. I'm sure they're quite worried about you."

Harry nodded his head, and let Slughorn escort him out.

He stepped into the hall once more, fully intending to find his friends, but never got the chance. One Lucius Malfoy had slid out from the shadows, as he came out of Slughorn's office.

"Hello," he greeted politely.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said as neutrally as possible.

"Studying anytime soon?" Harry just then remembered what he had said to the boy in the hall.

"Going to study, right now, actually."

"Good. I'll walk with you." When they got to the Slytherin common room entrance, his 'study' area, Harry was extremely grateful to every deity that Malfoy said the password, because he honestly hadn't known it. And Harry preferred his methods of traveling the castle to be kept a secret.

"So." Malfoy drawled, once they were both seated by the fire. He completely ignored the rest of the House, which was watching out of corners of their eyes. Harry fought the urge to roll his, they weren't subtle at all. "How did you do it? What little trick or game did you use to accomplish something that, ordinarily, is extremely... difficult." Harry smiled.

"Magic."

"Well, obviously, but what kind?"

"My magic." Malfoy looked like he would ask again, but then he decided against it. He also gave Harry an oddly appreciative once over.

"Well, Mr. Hadrian Riddle, I am glad you will be joining us for lunch." Harry was impressed, Malfoy almost sounded sincere when he finally spoke again. That took some serious skill. The rest of the common room didn't seem so surprised when this information was announced- they must've already known somehow.

"As am I, Mr. Lucius Malfoy." Harry stood as gracefully as he could manage, every movement fluent. He spared Malfoy a small, empty smile. "Until then, Slytherin house." With that he left the snakes' pit, only to hiss to a nearby wall. The secret passageway slid open, and Harry smirked to himself. _Oh yeah,_ he thought, _I still got it._

This passage was one that connected to the hole behind the painting that hung above the Slytherin common room. Perfect for entering their common room, and also for spying. Harry knew the real conversation would start as soon as he left.

He leaned against the portrait, and listened attentively.

"I don't like this," Someone muttered angrily, "a Gryffindor and a mudblood. What in the Dark Lord's name are you thinking, Malfoy?"

"Don't use Lord Voldemort's title so crassly," Malfoy hissed. Harry had his suspicions confirmed. Tom Riddle was still a Dark Lord here. And in the school... "Besides, Slughorn took a liking to him immeadiately. Not to mention his power-" The other boy scoffed.

"You mean the trick he played on you and a couple other of your friends? A trick and nothing else."

"He did it," Malfoy insisted. "If you don't take the luggage incident as proof, then I must ask how you don't feel it."

"Feel what?"

"This- this _aura_. So _strong_ and- oh, indescribable." Malfoy's voice had taken on a breathless quality. "Besides, I don't think he's a mudblood. Did you notice how he reacted when they called his name for the hat? It took him a minute to realize they were calling him. I think he's hiding something, at the very least. Anyway, for a Gryffindor he acts very Slytherin."

"On your head, Malfoy. If He hears of us associating with those below us, who knows what our punishments would be."

"Don't whine, He won't know. Yet."

"Oh, dear Lord, tell me you're not planning to get him involved."

"I'm telling you. That power..." Malfoy trailed off.

"Whatever. It's going to take more than a cheap trick to win over my favor."

"Guys," a girl suddenly said, "isn't that shipment coming today? Honeydukes, right?"

"Yeah." someone else piped up. "Macnair is gonna grab it, I heard. The Lord'll be pleased." Harry thought to himself. _Macnair... he had seen him at the Feast. Tall, muscled build, Fifth year._

 _What shipment? Of what? And what would the Dark Lord want of it? Well, it can't be anything good._

Harry then smirked. What good would sitting around and wondering do? If he wanted to see what that shipment was, he would have to go look himself. The teen headed for the humpbacked witch statue, ready to start his first true adventure.

"Dissendium," he whispered and tapped his wand to its hump.

He then slipped into the passage swiftly, never noticing the pair of shocked eyes that were pinned on his every move. As he darted down the earthen tunnel, he also never noticed when someone else dropped into the passage with him and began to silently follow, eyes still burning into his back.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to **portalefiamme** , your review and PMs inspired me!

Major, MAJOR, apology, for the horrendous wait. My responsibilities in life have been drowning me recently and I've been abroad for ages. To be honest, **Dedicated4reading** spured me into action with their review.

And thank you, **Shadow** the mysterious guest reviewer, I had realized that most stories that took Harry to a different universe made him either, a) fall in love with Tom Riddle or b) totally annihilate Tom Riddle. I hadn't _yet_ seen a Hadrian-Riddle-goes-to-different-universe-in-parent's-time-with-a-younger-Tom-Riddle-that-could-be-mistaken-for-his-father-oh-and-by-the-way-Grindelwald-is-out-and-kicking-butt-and-Dumbledore-has-a-more-f**ked-up-past-than-ever. Plus Malfoy almost has his face eaten by a snake, and Slughorn's shit scared of McGonagall's wrath.

So yeah. Read on everyone.

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

Harry then smirked. What good would sitting around and wondering do? If he wanted to see what that shipment was, he would have to go look himself. The teen headed for the humpbacked witch statue, ready to start his first true adventure.

"Dissendium," he whispered and tapped his wand to its hump.

He then slipped into the passage swiftly, never noticing the pair of shocked eyes that were pinned on his every move. As he darted down the earthen tunnel, he also never noticed when someone else dropped into the passage with him and began to silently follow, eyes still burning into his back.

* * *

Chapter 11

 **Hadrian Riddle**

* * *

The Honeydukes' passageway seemed longer than ever before, and much larger. Every step he took seemed to echo forever on. But he eventually came to a set of steps and a trapdoor, and he slid out into the sweetshop cellar.

His pursuer followed after a minute's deliberation and was shocked to find the bottom level of Honeydukes. A second more passed before a sly grin came over the pursuer's face. Not that Harry ever saw. He was still oblivious to anyone else's presence in the room.

He whipped out his wand and waved it toward the ceiling of the cellar, muttering words under his breath in rapid succession. Then he sat down a nearby crate, and leaned his head against the wall. When he shut his eyes, it was clear to the pursuer that Hadrian wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

After waiting a moment, the pursuer decided to leave by going up the stairs to the Honeydukes shop. He didn't see Harry tense at the slight shuffling sound his foot made when he began to walk towards the stairs. So, while stealthily making his way to the staircase, he was not proud to admit he nearly jumped out of his Disillusionment when he heard-

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The pursuer spun around, and cocked a brow at the now wide-open brilliant green eyes. Then he remembered as he saw the slightly dis-focused way the boy stared at him, that the kid couldn't see him still because of the disillusionment. "The manager is currently standing directly at the door leading down here. He's not moving anytime soon either."

"How do you know that? And more importantly, how did you know I was here?"

"I heard him walk over to the door." The pursuer realized the spell the boy first cast at the ceiling most likely had been one to help him hear through the floorboards to see if anyone was coming. How... advanced for a first year. The boy now continued to talk. "As for knowing you were here, well, it was a combination of things." The boy shrugged carelessly. "When you walk, you make a slight scuffle with your feet. I'm assuming, childhood habit. Not to mention your magic, it reeks. Very... strong, I would be able to feel it from a mile away. I hadn't earlier because I was so focused, and thinking- distracted suffice to say."

"I've heard many things in my day, but feeling someone's magic? Not one of them. And how would you infer the scuffle my feet made to be a childhood-induced habit?"

"The same way I can tell you're a military man, sophisticated and decently high in society, but not particularly wealthy. Or at least, not used to having money. The same way I can tell you have no living family, selfish aquaintances instead of real friends, and severe anger issues. And just because you haven't heard of something doesn't make it any less real. Your magic is oppressing, heavy. Swirling around in you like that, because there's so much of it trapped and it doesn't know where to go."

"Odd trick to know, boy." Tom , the pursuer, said finally. The boy, ever so imperceptibly, stiffened. But Tom Riddle still caught it and drew his own conclusions. This first year was turning out to be quite interesting. "Don't like being called that, do you?" A infinitesimal moment of silence permeated the air before-

"I don't particularly care." The tone was void, almost frosty. Before it had been almost slightly amused, while addressing Tom. Strangely enough, Tom found himself preferring the amusement over the ice.

"What is your name, then?"

"Hadrian." _Aha, I did remember his name correctly,_ Tom thought. Before Tom could demand a last name from the withholding child, it said to him,

"Are you a professor or associate of Headmaster Dumbledore? Come to see which kids will cause the most mischief this year? Is that why you followed me?" The words were supposed to be taken in light banter, but he could seen beneath the false smile the want for an answer. Smart. Trick the adult into believing you're just asking a harmless question.

"I'm not a friend of Dumbledore's." Tom replied, using the same trick as Hadrian just to annoy the child. Sure enough-

"That's not what I asked. I asked if you were associates."

"Is that not the same thing?" Tom continued with his charade.

"Grindlewald is an associate of Dumbledore's. They are not friends, but are associates."

"Hardly," Tom returned.

"Dumbledore and Grindelwald were lovers for many years until Grindelwald got into a fight with Aberforth, Dumdledore's brother, and the Headmaster's sister was killed in the crossfire. Dumbledore turned on him and all the plans they had made together for world domination over the Muggles." Tom blinked.

"How would you know- how _possibly-_ where did you _learn_ this?" Tom demanded.

"I have my ways," Harry said mysteriously and simply. "And... information is always good to have. Knowledge is power, after all is done and said. Whether or not you believed what I said, isn't my problem." A hint of amusement had crept back into the child's voice, and Tom was glad for it. The void voice, had unnerved him. He had also noticed how the boy hesitated on the word information, Tom would bet his wand that the child thought 'blackmail'. Filing away the Dumbldore/Grindelwald story for later, Tom moved on.

"You never did tell me your last name."

"Shhh!" The boy, Hadrian, fluidly rose to his feet. He swiftly made for a dark corner of the cellar. "Do yourself a favor, and stay hidden." The child's voice was tense and more eager, whether or not he realized it.

Lord Voldemort was most certainly intrigued- the first year whom had already been involved in a fight with two seventh years had snuck out of the school through a passageway he couldn't possibly know about after two days at Hogwarts to do- what, exactly? He was sure there was more to this story.

This was confirmed when one of his prize death eaters clomped down the stairs with the manager of Honeydukes following closely behind. Macnair, last he checked, was supposed to be in a different country for another month on business with the Bulgarian Ministry. What was one of his inner circle doing in the Honeydukes cellar?

"Do you have them?" The manager nodded fervently.

"Every last trace. All right here." The manager patted the crate Hadrian had been sitting on. Macnair smiled gruesomely.

"Fantastic," he breathed out.

"M-my payment." The manager stood straight despite his slight stutter.

"You live," said Macnair in his gruff voice.

"Now, see here-" The manager was cut off with a flash of green sickly light. Macnair laughed, and it was a deep, booming thing.

"Now you don't live," he said once the guffaws had subsided into chuckles. Before Macnair could grab the crate or even move however, he froze, then dropped like a rock to the ground. Hadrian now stood revealed behind him, wand in the air, and eyes shining.

Tom couldn't help it. He looked in those eyes and saw the Killing Curse shining back at him. The boy pocketed his wand, and knocked the lid off the crate. He rooted through it, sending some official-looking papers flying.

"You have got to be kidding me," Tom heard him hiss under his breath. The boy grabbed a stack of the papers, and disregarded the rest.

"Care to share?" Tom called out. Then suddenly, in between blinks, the boy vanished. Tom's question hung in the air unanswered.

* * *

Hadrian was racing down the passageway, invisibility cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He was stupid not to wear it before going to Hogsmeade. How did he not think of the possibility of someone seeing him?

* * *

Tom, instead of finding any answers, was currently drowning in more questions.

It didn't help that he now realized that when the boy had hissed under his breath, it had been in Parseltongue, those words.

A possible descendant of Slytherin? Dumbledore had assured him there were no others. But, by now, he should have realized the man was not to be trusted on his word on anything.

Tom brushed off invisible lint from his cloak, and decided it was time for his new pet project.

Find out who the hell 'Hadrian' is. Pronto.

Time to pay Dumbledore another delightful visit!

* * *

Sorry, I know, not even that long, but I'm already working through chapter 12, everybody.

Forgive me!

Thosetooweaktoseekit says next up on Hadrian Riddle and the Crimson Lance is:

Lord Voldemort and Dumbledore chit-chat over tea

James, Sirius, and Harry accidently rope Remus into an accidental prank on Pettigrew (he wasn't even supposed to be there!)

Luncheon with the Slytherins

Thoughts before sleep

Hogwarts professors (and Voldemort) prepare to defend against Grindelwald


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: I have returned from the dead! If you wish to know of why my absence was so long, an explanation is on my profile. Lots of love for all the faithfuls who have stuck around and a warm welcome to new readers! It's been a long while, but I'm going to update everything now.

* * *

 _Last Chapter…_

* * *

 _Tom, instead of finding any answers, was currently drowning in more questions._

 _It didn't help that he now realized when the child had hissed under his breath, those few words had been in Parseltongue._

 _A possible descendant of Slytherin? Dumbledore had assured him there were no others. But, by now, he should know that man was not to be trusted on his word on anything he relayed to Tom._

 _Tom brushed off invisible lint from his cloak, and decided it was time for his new pet project. Time to find out whom 'Hadrian' really was. He shall have to pay Dumbledore another visit in his self-made kingdom of Hogwarts._

 _Delightful._

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **Hadrian Riddle?**

* * *

So when the students spoke of Macnair receiving the package at Honeydukes they had not meant the fifth year, but his father. Whom, most likely, is one of Voldemort's loyal followers at the moment. It perhaps was not the smartest idea to provoke Tom Riddle's interest at any point in your life, but Harry had stood there and his mind rebelled against playing meek in front of this dangerous man. He did not want to be seen as a child that gave no threat. His reaction and bantering with the cruel monster that was masquerading in the deceivingly attractive Tom Riddle was not perhaps the smartest idea, but he could not help himself. He knew he would regret it later, but something in him jumps to the frontlines with that man. He can't hold back with the Dark Lord. But if he wants his revenge, Harry will have to be patient and better composed than what had just occurred in the cellar. Hadrian glanced down at the parchments he held.

The question is, why was Macnair collecting information on Hadrian?

A picture of Hadrian sat on the first page, sullen and with cold eyes. It looked to be his orphanage photo, the mandatory yearly photo each child had taken to be put in the adoption listings. When Hadrian first saw that photo, he quickly scanned through the box and grabbed anything pertaining to himself.

As he raced along the dirt tunnel, invisibility cloak flying behind him, he vowed to read these in the safety and privacy of his bed that night. Maybe they would reveal something of true importance.

He had no idea how messed up things were about to get.

* * *

Professor Albus Dumbledore hummed to himself as he headed to his office. Only the second day back and there were so many things in the works. His tune stilled when he eyed the open door to the History of Magic office. Someone had beat him to his office.

As he walked through his doorway he was met with the sight of an irate Tom Riddle, sitting in his plush high-backed chair and twirling his wand in one hand. When he saw the Professor, his hand snapped closed around the wand and slid it with the fluidity of a snake into his pocket.

"Hello, Albus." He said softly. And that was how the Professor knew that Tom was upset with him, the soft but dangerous tone spoke volumes. "Please have a seat." Ignoring how this was his office and if anything he should be the one inviting in Tom, Albus sat down in one of the guest chairs in front of the desk. Tom had always been rude, that was nothing new. Even as a student walking these halls, he had been so very entitled. Albus secretly chalked it up to a coping mechanism for having nothing and, well, being nothing in the eyes of his peers for so many long years in that orphanage.

"Is he alright?" Albus was jerked out of his thoughts, by a sharp question from a sharper man.

"Whom?"

"Hadrian," Tom stated, and Albus froze inside. "The boy who was hit by a Diffindo. Is he alright? I wonder how you are dealing with such violence in the walls of Hogwarts." Tom's voice dripped with false sympathy to match a concerned turn of the lips. Albus' heart started once more- if Tom knew, then this conversation would already be going so very differently.

"He is quite well. It is lovely to see you so invested in the health of our treasured students," he said with a genial smile.

Tom had to withold a grimace of disgust. He leaned forward to rest his folded hands on the mahogany desk. Good quality desk, he thought distractedly.

"It has come to my attention this young man has an ability, I confess myself confused on the origins of. I believe you had told me, that I had no living relatives?" Tom's eyes narrowed when he saw Dumbledore pose to respond, and continued on before he could. "And do not give me false reassurances old man, the Parseltongue gift is a Slytherin bloodline specific talent. How? Whom are the boys parents?" Albus outwardly sighed to stall for an infiniteismal second of time.

He needed to do this very carefully. Tom could not be suspicious.

"Hadrian's parents are dead, Tom, and he lives in London in a home for boys. As far as I know he has no relation to the Slytherin family line."

"Then can you explain away for me his Parseltongue abilities?"

"Perhaps your imagination has-"

"I am not a first year student, eyes wide and mind underdeveloped- do not play me for a fool. I want a name." Tom's rich brown eyes glinted sanguine to highlight his displeasure. Dumbledore wanted to scream but he had better self control. Already playing cards he had hoped not to yet in this game- what had sparked Tom's interest in the child? When did he see the child speak their tongue? He once again felt the urge to yell out in frustration- but for this to work, he needed to look calm.

"Hadrian Riddle." Silence hung heavy in the room. Like the eye of the storm, Albus could see the other side of the hurricane coming closer and closer until it would bear down upon him like the dogs of hell.

"Tell me," Tom pronounced slowly as if trying to find the right words, "that is a joke, Albus." Albus wanted to smile it all away and say yes, but he could already see the cogs working in Tom's head. He couldn't play denial any more. He had to defuse the, what do the muggles say? The bomb? He had to defuse _the bomb_ that was Tom Riddle's mind jumping to conclusions. Probably true conclusions, like how Hadrian is his son, but Albus had dissuade such notions. Albus had dreamed Tom would never even hear the boy's name, but it was better this way- having Dumbledore lead Tom in the 'right' direction instead of Tom investigating on his own.

"Tom, this is far less complicated than it seems."

"Oh." Tom's words were still slow and had weight behind them. "Do explain then, for you have certainly captured my attention."

* * *

Hadrian knew it would be pointless to try and find Sirius and James at this point, they could be anywhere. He did however feel a little guilty for blowing them off without thinking by first going with Malfoy to the Slytherin common room then investigating Macnair. Come to think of it, he wouldn't even get to speak with them at lunch since he was seated with the Slytherins. Unless...

Oh, Hadrian was so cruel.

* * *

"Jamie?"

"Yeah, Sirius," James sighed in resignation. He had gave up on fighting the nickname.

"Do you think Veers expelled Hadrian?" Sirius looked fairly concerned.

"No, he hasn't done anything." But in the back of James' mind nagged the memory of a boy falling through a hole into his compartment. Why did he have to do that? Harry might have said it was a prank, but thinking on it now James saw that didn't really explain anything.

What if Harry was some kind of boy-on-the-run? Is Headmaster Veers going to expell him? But a calming thought came to him, Headmaster Veers was in a conference for the International Confederation of Wizards all weekend. That means the History of Magic professor, Mr. Dumbledore, would be in charge as deputy headmaster. He was so nice, surely he wouldn't expell Harry?

Sirius bit his lip in thought. He had only known Hadrian for a little while, but he already missed him. He felt a need to be close to him and make him smile all the time. Sirius liked when Hadrian laughed, and wanted him to laugh at all of his jokes. Sirius knew he was very good at jokes.

He flushed in remembrance of the embarrassing lake incident. He can't believe he got his robes tangled in Hadrian, and he thought the boy he had met moments ago would be very angry- but Hadrian just laughed a little. He was so clever with magic and nice and had even though he spoke Parseltongue he was not like his dark family at all.

And...he had really nice eyes.

And one of those aristocratic faces, with slightly wavy hair and his cheekbones were so pretty...

Not that Sirius cared or anything, but it was true.

Everything about Hadrian was nice.

So he really hoped Hadrian wasn't in trouble.

* * *

Lunch wouldn't officially start for fifteen minutes, but Harry already sat himself at the Slytherin table with a propped open book. He sat there, and re-read the introduction chapter on Defense Against the Dark Arts: The Futility and Necessity. It was the book assigned by this year's professor: Professor Beaumont.

 _The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a nieck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible. The Dark Arts refer to any type of magic used to harm, control, or even kill the victim...Dark Arts encompass a large range of magicks from the Unforgivables to brewing harmful or poisonous potions to breeding Dark creatures and its practice is illegal in any situation...practitioners are referred to as Dark wizards or witches...they are malevolent people with intentions so cruel we can do nothing but fight them as there is no reasoning with these people...regardless of the risk and their re-growing heads together we must fight this monster unto our very deathbeds..._

Well, Harry thought, this year's class will be interesting. This guy is obviously a firm hater of the Dark Arts, and Harry was a practitioner- not that the professor would know that. Harry glanced again at the open book with mild disgust showing on his face. A year or so ago he would have agreed with that sick, close-minded writer. But now that he understood the true risk of the Dark Arts, which was addiction, he saw that with proper care and diligence it can be a healthy practice- especially with a Dark core like Harry's.

"Enjoying the book? I personally did," A lilting, feminine voice said from behind him. He slowly turned around as not to show his surprise at being snuck on up (he was never snuck up on, he did the sneaking!), and was met with the sight of a rather petite but beautiful woman. She had hair like hollow gold in an attractive thirties fingerwave, and a supple frame. Her eyes were a dark, dark blue unlike Dumbledore's light and clear ones that stuck out upon her stark white skin. She had on a white blouse tucked into a high-waisted skirt that matched her eyes and fell to just under her knees. Her cloak was also that odd blue, fastened around her neck with a clasp and no sleeves. And her nails caught his eye- painted white as her blouse. So this one was a suckler for matching order, he could tell.

Harry could also easily admit she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, right up there with Fleur Delacour. In fact this lady had a timeless quality to her that the vain but good-hearted Fleur could never pull off. She looked to be around twenty, but could easily be anywhere from eighteen to fourty.

"Fascinating," he said without a smile.

"Good!" She smiled wide and gracefully fell back to sit next to him, her hands folded in her laps and a leg crossed over the other. "My name is Athena, may I enquire after yours?" She tilted her head inquistively and kept smiling. Harry was unnerved by her sunny disposition.

"Hadrian, ma'am." The lady... _Athena_ , lept to her feet just as gracefully as she had sat and clapped her hands together.

"Splendid! Well, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I must be off now..." Athena trailed off, before perking up again. Then she whispered, "It's bollocks," before gliding off with her cloak flowing behind her.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the meeting, and felt _very_ confused. What had just happened?

Who was that?

He did not get much time to ponder, for the sea of children hungry for lunch began to pour into the Great Hall. Spotting Malfoy's little crew walking forth, he made himself comfortable.

...In the seat of where the usual 'Slytherin King' would sit. I mean, after all, he was just 'a Gryffindor and a mudblood' so how would he know where not to sit? Harry had the urge to chuckle evilly.

To the right of Malfoy and the mini Death Eaters he saw James and Sirius, and after making eye contact the two rushed over to him.

"You're not gone!" Sirius exclaimed happily, black eyes lighting up with excitement. James bounced on the balls of his feet.

"No, Dumbledore just talked to me for a minute."

"Well, you're real lucky Headmaster Veers wasn't here, because if he got you in trouble - oh man it would be _real_ bad." James said solemnly. "I've met him with my dad before, and the dad says not to trust him cause he was convicted for being a Grindelwald follower. He was found innocent, but dad still thinks otherwise. He was the one to convict Headmaster Veers, after all. But Reaper or not a Grindelwald follower, that guy is still intense and scary." Harry definitely took that information into account. An ex-Reaper for a Headmaster? Worthy of attention.

"Listen," He said to James and Sirius, "I think you guys should sit here too." Oh, Hadrian was cruel. The Slytherins would not enjoy this.

"..."

"..."

"Are you crazy?"Sirius said in a high voice. He cleared his throat. "They won't want us here!" It still came out high-pitched. James snickered a little but still nodded seriously along with Sirius' words.

Harry inwardly sighed. He didn't want to use this weapon but... He widen his eyes in a puppy dog look his Godfather woud have been proud of and slightly stuck out his lower lip- enough where it would have an effect but not enough where it would really be noticed.

"It's just...what if they don't like me? What if they are...not so nice to me? I just...would like my first two friends to be here with me." Sirius and James looked at each other before saying in perfect unison-

"Alright." Sirius slid onto Harry's right and James slid onto his left. It had barely been half a minute before a crisp voice spoke from behind them.

"I do not recall you inviting the entirety of Gryffindor House, Lucius." A boy with light brown hair and decent features raised an eyebrow at the three, before Hadrian fluidly stood.

"Hello," he smiled pleasantly. "I do not think we have had the joy of introductions yet. How uncivilized of...us." Harry's stress on the word _us_ implied that he found the other boy's behavior uncouth. The brown haired child's ears grew a little red at the tips, and Lucius Malfoy stood behind him looking smug and ridiculously pleased.

"Well," he smoothly interjected. "Are you going to give Mr. Riddle your introductions or not?" His voice had an underlying current of sharpness. Malfoy may be one of the youngest in their gang, but he clearly had influence regardless.

The brown haired boy gave a sharp nod to Malfoy and gave Harry a small bow.

"My name is Leo Fawley, Heir to the Fawley family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I am of the age thirteen years and will be presented this summer." Harry give a small dip of the head, and made to introduce himself.

But before he did, he made eye contact with the man whom had just walked into Great Hall side by side with Albus Dumbledore. Brown eyes examined intensely the scene in front of Harry.

Hadrian tried to ignore the burning interest in the other man's eyes as he looked at Harry, but even as he turned away from the searching gaze of Tom Riddle he still felt it searing into his mind.

He should have never given into his instincts, and should have just been meek to the man in that cellar. He should have avoided any interest sparking for him in Tom Riddle's eyes.

But, oddly enough, Harry really couldn't bring himself to regret it.

* * *

Author's Note: I really enjoyed writing that. Let me know what you think! Are you all wondering what Dumbledore told Tom to explain away the existence of a "Hadrian Riddle"?


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Hello, I would just like to share some exciting news with everyone: It's happened. The best thing that can happen to a fanfiction writer.

100th review.

So I just want to give a little love to **BorderlineObsessed** for the review, and equally as much love to all you reviewers, followers, and favorites. Thank you all so much!

On with the story.

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

 _The brown haired child's ears grew a little red at the tips, and Lucius Malfoy stood behind him looking smug and ridiculously pleased._

 _"Well," he smoothly interjected. "Are you going to give Mr. Riddle your introductions or not?" His voice had an underlying current of sharpness. Malfoy may be one of the youngest in their gang, but he clearly had influence regardless._

 _The brown haired boy gave a sharp nod to Malfoy and gave Harry a small bow._

 _"My name is Leo Fawley, Heir to the Fawley family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I am of the age thirteen years and will be presented this summer." Harry give a small dip of the head, and made to introduce himself._

 _But before he did, he made eye contact with the man whom had just walked into Great Hall side by side with Albus Dumbledore. Brown eyes examined intensely the scene in front of Harry._

 _Hadrian tried to ignore the burning interest in the other man's eyes as he looked at Harry, but even as he turned away from the searching gaze of Tom Riddle he still felt it searing into his mind._

 _He should have never given into his instincts, and should have just been meek to the man in that cellar. He should have avoided any interest sparking for him in Tom Riddle's eyes._

 _But, oddly enough, Harry really couldn't bring himself to regret it._

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

 **The Big Deal**

* * *

Tom Riddle's eyes narrowed in and zoomed to one Hadrian Riddle with a razor precision that frightened Albus. It was as if, despite the hundreds of children in the hall, he could immeadiately _see_ where the boy was.

He knew that his story was a gamble, based entirely on Tom's hatred and general opinion of muggles. If Albus was correct in his assumptions, if Tom's immense dislike for the race would overcome his suspicion, then he was in the clear with Hadrian Riddle.

If not...

He just jeopardized the safety and future of a child and his own safety hand-in-hand. And he knew he could only blame himself for being in this situation in the first place, and that really hurt Albus the most.

* * *

Walking side-by-side with Albus Dumbledore, Tom made his way to the Head Table. He was to be seated next to the Headmaster's chair as a guest- regardless that the Headmaster in question was not even here.

All the better, Tom was never quite fond of Veers.

But all of these facts were of no true importance or concern to Riddle, as his attention was continually drawn back to the lithe little figure of first year Hadrian, a Gryffindor who was currently seating himself at the Slytherin table for lunch after a confrontation with a gangle of his followers' children.

The boy really was rather like him in many aspects he had seen so far...

Those foul, filthy muggles. He _knew_ he should have burned that orphanage, that place of torment, to the ground years ago. But it would have been to clear to Dumbledore and his already growing suspicions of Tom who had committed the crime. He had been already too close to being caught with the Chamber incident, which most certainly had not been smoothed over the way he had planned.

The sickness of empathy boiled in his veins.

The power of his hate was just as strong.

* * *

Harry had to hold back a grin as Leo Fawley introduced himself. That in itself wasn't really the humourous part- it was watching out of the corner of his eye all the Slytherins trying to hide the bafflement on their faces. He had disrupted their normal seating pattern, and now they just looked lost.

But back to the issue at hand, he was not about to be one upped by this kid's snotty introduction. Sacred Twenty-Eight? Two can play that game. Harry at least _thought_ that the Gaunt name was of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Oh well, he was about to test it.

"My name is Hadrian Riddle, Heir of the Gaunt family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I am of the age eleven years and my presentation will the summer after next." What the hell was a 'presentation' anyway? He saw some of the Slytherins do a bit of a double take on the whole Gaunt thing, but Harry enjoyed it. He was masquerading as a Riddle, might as well use the benefits. It wasn't as if any of them knew who Lord Voldemort really was. And to be clear-

The very, _very_ limited benefits.

Well, Harry could at least rest with the thought that the vile man was not actually any relative of his. Leo Fawley was sputtering a bit, and Harry just smoothly sat back down at the table. James seemed to stare off into space and Sirius was looking at him with wide eyes- but Harry was not too worried. Sirius had a grin to match. He leaned over to Hadrian as the Slytherins dispersed to take their seats.

"Nice one, that was really funny to see their faces. You just owned them!" Sirius whispered excitedly, blowing hot air by Harry's ear.

"I know," Harry said smugly. He turned to his left to ask what James thought of his little cruel joke, but he wasn't there. Instead there sat Malfoy with a small- dare he say it?- smile on his mouth.

"Your acquaintance Mr. Potter, is seated to the right of Mr. Black. I merely thought it appropriate that as the one Professor Slughorn enforced this idea that we socialize during this luncheon. I do believe you are seeing your friends each day, yes? Our contact however is quite more limited, and had gotten off to a rather ill start. Something I would like to rectify, by the way."

Lucius' manner of speech was something he would accept on his adult self but on a twelve year old it was rather...misplaced. "My attitude was poor on the station, and in the hallway. I first had been rather distraught with news from my uncle; my aunt has been killed two weeks ago. It propelled me into such a terrible state that I lashed out on every opportunity. In the hall, well, it was a combination of that and your impressive skills clearly out weighing my own abilities."

From merely glancing at the other faces of the Slytherins, he could verify the truth behind Malfoy's words. Some were clearly shocked or upset that Malfoy told Harry what had happened to his Aunt. Harry knew any familial or personal friend matters were held tight within circles until released as appropriate by the Head of one's family. That would mean Lucius not only released private information to him, but anyone else at the table who did not know. Quite a risk- the Head of the family could be very upset if word got out.

With a silent wave of Professor Dumbledore's hand, the meal arrived, but that wouldn't save Harry from anwering.

"I agree that we had not started our acquaintance in the most positive of fashions. I reacted to you in an immature and weak way by misplacing your luggage. Though I did seek to rectify that- I had undone the enchantments keeping your belongings from drying." Lucius' eyes glittered and he really did smile then, slowly.

"I had wondered if that was permanent or if it would just wear off. I had assumed in this morning that the charms wore off, but now I know they did not. Clever! And I presume, if you'll excuse me, that is the reason you were in the Slytherin common in the first place?" Harry smiled charmingly.

"Well the atmosphere was just so soothing, I had to see if such enjoyment had long term effects."

"Feel free to experiment with that at any time you so please." Yet another statement from Malfoy that was drawing disapproval from his housemates and confusion from Harry. Was this a ploy to observe Hadrian? Either way, he could not deny Malfoy. He gave a small dip of the head and turned to his plate. Everyone else in their center group at the table followed suit. It was quite funny to see that they had- accidentally- waited for him to start his meal first. A sign of _high_ respect.

After Harry finished compiling his meal, he began to carefully and as aristocratically as possible eat his lamb shank with apricot sauce.

What? It's really good! The apricot sauce just really works with the dish.

As they all dug in, chit chat started up and Harry could catch snippets of different conversations.

"And then I said that of course you never wear red, for it's simply Selwyn! How pathetic that rag truly follows in the footsteps of Madame Loisel..."

"...mother says the weather is just _dreadful_ , but I would much rather hear from father. He's a diplomat you know? On a mission to Magical Japan, that's right..."

"Who does he think he is? He has no authority over us! Malfoy is being whimsical by allowing this fool into over very heart, simply because the idiot got drunk on Riddle's magic. I bet it's real weak magic anyway, probably even lying about being a Gaunt descendant. Look at the mudblood, he does not measure up to our glorious House Founder!"

Conversation had slowly died out however, when Leo Fawley began ranting to thin air about Hadrian. Malfoy looked to be building a rage, bristling with indignation. By saying Hadrian's magic was weak he was insulting Malfoy for being affected by it.

Harry was really not appreciating it, and in response released his magic. He didn't ease his classmates into his magic, he just let it crash down on them like a wave. Some had very physical reactions, and heads turned in reaction from other tables.

And that was just a small fraction of what he could release.

Just as Harry opened his mouth to give a stern talk down to the Leo brat, Malloy gently nudged him.

"The Professor Slughorn is coming over to congratulate us all on our House Unity efforts." Harry trapped his magic inside again, but the dazed look still lingered in their eyes. Then when everyone was rearranging their faces to look more normal, Lucius whispered to Hadrian.

"This will most likely be pretty painful." Before Harry could even think to question what he meant, Slughorn was upon them.

"Aha, Hadrian, how are you? Enjoying your lunch?" Slughorn boomed. "I do love to see this fine example of House Unity active!" He was so loud that the rest of the lunchroom couldn't help but look over. Harry felt hundreds of eyes search him out and widen at the Gryffindor emblem on his robes.

This is what Malfoy meant.

"Aw Sluggy, leave the honey alone." The lilting and playful voice of a familiar woman called from the Head Table. Athena wiggled her fingers at Hadrian with a smile.

Slughorn chuckled strongly, and made his way back up to the Head Table.

The woman swirled her drink (which appeared to be wine) around in her glass, while staring Hadrian down. Then she snapped out of it and enthusiastically re-welcomed Slughorn to his seat.

Harry knew the man was harmless in the long run, but did he have to make it such a big deal? Now everyone would wonder of him, if only for a second. He had the spotlight now, but Harry had had that enough in his life.

He just sighed and went back to his meal, and though that was the end of the ordeal.

Until Bellatrix showed up.

* * *

Tom stared at the strange woman Professor and her little cut into Slughorn's show off. She stared at the boy for a while longer before snapping out of it.

He did not blame her, he could not keep his eyes of the enigma that was the Gryffindor Hadrian sitting with the Slytherins. And perhaps he felt a tiny personal connection to the child- due of course to the similarities they had and the sick story Dumbledore had revealed.

Foul, filthy muggles they were.

So Tom watched the boy closely without stop, and raised an eyebrow at the arrival of Bellatrix Black. She was only eleven but he had heard boasting tales from Walburga's sister of her daughter's immense talent in duelling. An apparent prodigy- who did not look too happy to see Hadrian sitting at the Slytherins' table. Let alone in the spot of the king, unknowing or not.

He felt suddenly a bit protective of the boy. She began to raise her voice and shout at Hadrian, but he was unfazed and seemed to calmly respond. She eventually grew rosy in the face with anger.

Little self control, Tom noted.

She made to open her mouth again but Hadrian cut her off. When he was done speaking, she just blinked at him and them proceeded to sit down next to him, practically shoving a very disgruntled Malfoy heir out of the way.

She faced him completely on the bench and they talked on for the remainder of lunch. At the end when the students made to leave, she leaned forward and hugged the boy. Hadrian made no move to return the motion and the Malfoy heir had to in the end remove her.

She seemed to apologize from what Tom could tell of their facial expressions. Hadrian said something that caused her to curtsy before flouncing off. The girl seemed to go from hated to adoring him in the span of fifteen minutes.

Then the object of his attention stood to leave with the eldest son of Walburga's and Charlus' offspring trailing behind.

He could do better, Tom noted.

* * *

Harry was puzzled but mostly uncomfortable about the occurrence with Bellatrix.

"What is wrong with that girl?" He wondered aloud.

"Beats me," Sirius said shrugging. "I'd say only God knows, but I'm pretty sure it's more likely her origins lie with the place down below...if you understand what I'm saying." There was a moment of silence as the three walked before they all started to snicker.

Which eventually disintegrated into full blown laughter.

And Sirius eyed Harry's joy with satisfaction. It felt great to make his new friends laugh, really it did. His family never failed to fail to find him humorous.

 _My jokes_ , he thought smugly, _are the best. Here is the proof. I'm amazing!_

Hadrian caught his eye, and Sirius only swelled up in more pride as the other boy once again lost his composure.

* * *

The game was _so_ on.

History is making itself here and now.

And this time she would be ready, she would not flee. With a sigh she threw away old memories to eye the outdoors.

From the window, she could see only the thick vegetation of the forest and mountains in the distance beyond that. It was misty outside, and generally miserable beyond the glass panes.

Athena primly sat herself on the window seat out of respect.

After all, misery loves company.

And the weather looked like it could compliment her inner suffering just perfectly.

* * *

Author's Note: Next up Headmaster Veers will make an appearance...of sorts.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note:

Hello! Been, what, over three weeks now? Sorry about that! I've been swamped. Well here's chapter fourteen for loyal followers and new readers alike. Oh, warning, Athena will be given some background at the end. This chapter is pretty filler anywho, but the next one writes the story of Harry Riddle's mother and Grindelwald, and classes start, and Tom Riddle, and Dumbledore, and the attack begins in a most interesting way... the final product is now at 5, 834 words and growing. I'll split into two chapters and post when done.

Dedicated to **DeiStarr** , with lots of love for the AMAZING reviews. No seriously, AMAZING. I feel terrible this is two days later than I had promised DeiStarr, but what is done is what is done. So once again a thanks to all the lovelies who have spent time reading this little thing. [heart emoji insert here (which is not cliche or cheesy)]

* * *

Last Chapter...

* * *

 _{Harry's last scene}_

 _Harry was puzzled but mostly uncomfortable about the occurrence with Bellatrix._

 _"What is wrong with that girl?" He wondered aloud._

 _"Beats me," Sirius said shrugging. "I'd say only God knows, but I'm pretty sure it's more likely her origins lie with the place down below...if you understand what I'm saying." There was a moment of silence as the three walked before they all started to snicker._

 _Which eventually disintegrated into full blown laughter._

 _And Sirius eyed Harry's joy with satisfaction. It felt great to make his new friends laugh, really it did. His family never failed to fail to find him humorous._

 _{Athena's last scene}_

 _From the window, she could see only the thick vegetation of the forest and mountains in the distance beyond that. It was misty outside, and generally miserable beyond the glass panes._

 _Athena primly sat herself on the window seat out of respect._

 _After all, misery loves company._

 _And the weather looked like it could compliment her inner suffering just perfectly._

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

 **Mother Knows Best**

* * *

"You see, Tom, it is unlikely that one who makes your acquaintance would be quick to forget it. You are rather memorable, unless perhaps, a nifty spell of forgetfulness were to plague your meeting." Dumbledore's light eyes sparkled with faint mirth. Tom looked generally unamused and drummed his fingers lightly on the desk. The old man's eyes seemed to light brighter if anything while his face alternatively seemed to gain age. With a quirk of his thin lips, he continued on. "Wool's Orphanage is one of the places that your lingering traces had not been particularly enjoyable for those still remaining..."

Tom withheld a shudder of disgust and various other negative emotions. His anger had yet to even begin to fade after what his old Professor discussed with him. To think, the boy seemed so bright and yet stayed in such a place of darkness. Would this young bright Hadrian truly be returning to such a dim and cruel place in the summer holidays?

This halted Tom in his tracks. For it was simply unacceptable, as he remembered begging to stay the summer at Hogwarts.

He decided he would set a plan of action to remove the boy from Wool's permenantly, from behind the scenes.

Which was of course a calm reaction, and not at all odd for Tom to do... He was a very kind and generous and thoughtful man after all.

* * *

Harry believed that the luncheon had gone rather swell, despite the little upsets. He was now established as a Gaunt descendant, which simultaneously solidified and/or clarified the idea for himself, that the connection to Tom Riddle and their 'Lord' was not present in the minds of the children. It also showed their Lord had not announced his status as the true Gaunt, just as Harry had suspected. Riddle wouldn't want any possibility of a recognition- he could not admit his identity, not even to his followers and their families. Too much risk.

Speaking of taking risks, Harry felt the weight of the files inside his robes. As he walked with James and Sirius to the dormitory he determined to put it out of his mind the rest of the day. He would examine them at night, and then re-look over his school books. Class would start tomorrow after all and he intended to wow. Unlike his mediocre performance in the nineties, a result of training by the Dursleyes not to outshine others, now he would unfairly use all his expertise to ace these classes.

Hehehehe.

"Hey freshmeat, what the hell was with that little get together at lunch, huh?" A sneering sixth year boy called out to Hadrian with a girl maybe a year or two younger than him hanging off his arm. "You all buddy-buddy with them snakes now? Who exactly do you think you are? I think you need yourself a little lesson from us big boys." Now within the firelit and sunkissed common room, Harry has met some opposition. The boy very obviously motioned two monstrous students roughly the same age as him over. They menacingly stood over Hadrian and crew. The girl with her bouncy chestnut curls tittered at the scene, and gazed on at the boy with adoration in her eyes.

"Get going Potter, Black. I ain't got no bone with you to be picking." Harry saw Sirius boldly thrust his chin up and stand straighter.

"I'm not going _anywhere._ " James copied Sirius' movement with a resounding,

"I got a bone to pick with you. Hadrian is my friend, and I don't abandon my friends." Harry was truly touched by their display, and hoped they wouldn't be harmed for it. Of course, he realistically knew he would never let that happen to the two.

The three burly boys snickered a bit in an ugly manner, before crackling their knuckles and removing their wands from their robes. Harry couldn't stand for what was playing out and swiftly pulled out his own phoenix wand.

"Expelliarmus," he quietly cast. In such a faint whisper of exasperation it was nearly inaudible, matter of fact. Just as fast, the boys' wands were gone and laying in the loose grip of Harry's right hand.

He was left-handed, and he still held his wand out in the elder boys' direction in case of physical attack. But none came, because right that second a very frantic Minerva McGonagall burst through from the corridor.

"What is going on in here?" she sternly exclaimed. "Well? You think that the wards are not monitored in the privacy of your dorms? Hm?" The professor looked truly irate at the discord among her Lions. Harry never could remember any such occurences of the Head of Gryffindor entering the dorms except the two or three situation extremities. And wards on the dorms which would...what? Sense ill intent? He supposed that such an explanation could work.

She was looking now at Harry, and the expression on her face booked no room for argument.

"Professor, you see-" He began.

"The little bugger went and start up picking fights with me and mine! He's a right freak," the sixth year, that started this all, cut in. The other two boys nodded viciously in agreement and looked at Harry as if he were sludge under their shoes. Despite the stupidity and lack of viability to that comment, it... stung. Harry flinched at the word 'freak', for obvious Dursleyish reasons. He felt pathetic for being so triggered, but he supposed it was ordinary for such a thing. Didn't mean he liked it.

"I don't believe I was enquiring after you, Mr. Sayre! I am asking Mr. Riddle for his explanation on what exactly has being going on here," she sharply spoke. When she turned to Harry, he expected some of that coldness from her tone to drift into her expression, but she looked nothing but blank. So, in a quick manner, he told her precisely what had happened. The frustrated Mr. Sayre managed to hold his tongue until Harry was done, but he couldn't hold back the sullen comment afterward.

"That's not true, it went nuthin' like that."

"For goodness sake!" McGonagall said. "You are of decently noble standing, and raised in all of the olde and proper ways. Why do you speak like that of a street child?" Mr. Sayre turned a sour plum red and huffed before violently seating himself on the armchair he had originally risen from.

"Professor," Harry said softly, "I am willing to provide memory proof or partake in any other method of determinaton."

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Riddle," Professor McGonagall sighed. "I believe you in this instance. Mr. Sayre will face disciplinary action for his behavior, and you will be required to check in with the nurse for any maladies or injuries done to your person. I am not accusing Mr. Sayre, but this is a school wide requirement." Harry once again had never heard of such a thing happening in Hogwarts. There were fights all the time, and there were never any checks done on the participants. It was rather clever to do so as well, for what if a spell had been cast to be slow-acting or delayed? It would have been a quite useful school system, he mused. "Not to mention, Mr. Riddle, you had escaped the nurse earlier on I had heard. Snuck out on the intern, Madam Pompfrey."A stern look met Harry's bashful look.

"Sorry, Professor."

"Just make your way there now, why don't you? Not you two too, Mr. Potter and Mr. Black. No need to have you two veering him away from the boring hospital wing. Speaking of bad influences... I received the most curious letter from your father, Mr. Potter. I do not want any such foolishness in..." Harry walked out of the dorm to the embarrased groan of James.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was a proud, vain, and generally selfish child. But oddly enough, unlike most children of such a degree, he was aware of it. _And,_ even _more_ surprising, is that he did not wish to be any of those things.

He always had heard, for as long as he can remember anywho, how much he was like his father. Ah, the joys of father and son in union!

But Abraxas Malfoy was nothing like his son, and Lucius wanted to be everything that his father was. His father was considerate, soft-spoken yet commanding, clever with that glint in his eye that wasn't malvolent so much as merely compelling, he was philosophical and charitable. He pondered existence and still was so involved and focused in the right-here-right-now. He truly loved his wife and family, unlike so many of the arranged marriages.

Lucius didn't have the heart his father did, it seemed. Nor the love for life itself or even knowledge and he didnt care much for the reasons of existence. His influence came from his family line, and had nothing to do with his own merits.

But slowly he was changing that. He must, he thought to himself. He had to prove he was clever and insightful and an asset in his insight.

That is where Hadrian Riddle comes in.

He was powerful beyond anything Lucius had ever felt, and knowing that that display at lunch was clearly not his full ability, was intoxicating in its own right. It made Lucius feel greedy with Hadrian Riddle, even as he saw the bonuses of sharing his abilities to others so to say "look what I found, you are welcome."

And perhaps, if he were brave enough one day he would bring this boy of raw potential to his father, who would undoubtlessly approve.

...and then perhaps his father would bring Hadrian to the mysterious Lord. He was sure if that happened he would be in favor with the man.

Which was a good thing, correct? Who wouldn't want to be in good favor with such an influential and powerful man as the Dark Lord Voldemort?

And in the process of Hadrian Riddle, Lucius Malfoy would gain a bit of his own merits to stand by.

And one day, perhaps if he were brave enough, he will be a lot more like his father in the end.

* * *

A little girl with hair of hollow gold pulled into two braids in a buttoned white dress, dodged the steps of a tall and slender woman nearly intimidating in her beauty.

"Mother," she called up sing songingly. "When is father coming home?" The woman walked on and so did the little girl behind her but there was no response. "Mother," she sang, "Mother, I want father to come home now. When can we get him?"

In a melodious and sharp tuned voice, the woman finally spoke.

"Silence yourself foolish child, your father is dead. Among these bodies I am sure of it." The woman's bluntness didn't deterr the small girl.

"Father will come home! Father must! Mother won't you please listen! You are being silly!"

But her father never did come home, and the woman walked on through the battlefield of strewn dead men. The air was frigid and the snow burning in its coldness, butthe ydid not yet feel it and the little girl followed her mother through the reminants of the Stalingrad offensive.

The strikingly beautiful woman had wandered around in silence for far too long searching for her husband's body, her daughter trailing faithfully behind, and soon the warming charms wore down and the little girl began to shiver but the woman did not even notice the cold. She walked on and on until her daughter simply couldn't go any further and sat to rest her feet.

In a few hours she would be found by soldiers and brought in somewhere warm, but her beautiful mother died in the weather and sorrow.

Her father did indeed lie somewhere upon that field, and many years later she would find his medals in the wet grass of early Russian spring. She slowly healed for many years after that, and still was. Sometimes she forgot, forgot to be better. You see, until that moment which brought her great personal peace on the morbid subject, the little girl grew a bitterness for weakness and did _everything_ to fight it. Anything.

Have you ever wondered of the possiblities of immortality?

Something beyond the limited span of our lives?

The little girl that sat in an interrogation in Moscow in the year of 1942, at the age of six, would never know weakness because she demanded it so.

And so Athena was born.

* * *

Harry glumly eyed the opposite wall.

It was white, like everything else in the hospital wing. Intern Poppy Pompfrey fluttered around him, and proceeded to check him off as free to go.

"Oh no you don't!" She snapped before he could sneak out the door. Pompfrey bustled over and shoved two vials into his hands. "The blue is an edited version of pain relief potion if the Diffindo wound ever bothers you. The other one is a minor healing potion meant to increase the strength of the area in which you were hit." She eyeballed him intensely. "I expect you to _take them_ when it is needed."

"I will," he promised. Although it was unlikely, it was possible he actually would.

"You better," she threatened. Harry put up his hands in a placating gesture with the vials and began backing out. Pompfrey snorted before turning back to her hospital wing, and Harry made his exit.

In the mostly empty hallway, Harry was yet again approached by Lucius Malfoy.

"Mr. Riddle, the Professor Slughorn has deemed the beginning of the union of our houses worthy of serious celebration. There will be a little get-together of about fourty students or so, to celebrate this fine day." Harry nearly groaned in frustration. why must Slytherins be so... urghhh sometimes? But this was good for him. He had barely socialized in over a year.

So he courteously took the envelope invitation into his head and parted ways with the Malfoy heir. Once he had made his way back into his dorms, he saw a lack of the three angry boys and the clinging girl. Besides from a cursory glance he avoided eye contact with any one else before heading to his bed by the window.

His patience was not nearly as strong as he had thought, and he carefully warded his bed and crawled behind the curtains once noticing a fair lack of James and Sirius. With a quick fourish his whipped up the thick files encased in his robes. Warily he checked for any spells, curses, warding, or hexes on the pages but none were found. He eagerly flipped over the first page to find.

Nothing. White, blank paper.

He flipped through the entirety of the pages to find them in the same condition. He sighed in a most put upon way, and drummed his fingers on the stack of apparently blank but not negatively charmed papers.

Why would Macnair want blank papers? And if this was a mission commissioned by the Dark Lord, why had Riddle been there and even questioned after the papers? And if Macnair was doing this for reasons that involved Hadrian Riddle and not telling Tom Riddle, then what was the sacred importance of these papers that he would risk himself so? And how did Macnair know of him if Tom Riddle didn't even know he had a son? What was Harry missing?

He was seriously becoming invested in the backstory created for Hadrian Riddle.

A sudden breeze drifted through the curtains and a couple of the papers drifted away. Harry snatched them from the air, but on the cover page he cut his thumb on the sharp, crisp edge of paper. Hissing in frustration he placed the paper back on top of the pile before pulling out his wand to be rid of the red stain. Before he did, something caught his eye. An elegant script with looping letters and the beauty of sophistication faded into being.

 _Mother Knows Best_

* * *

Author's Note: Cliffhanger. Again. I'm sorry! and also sorry for any grammar mistakes, I didn't edit this yet.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Here we go, the first part of the ten thousand document I made (and am still editing now that I am alive). Lots of love to all here with me today! I am sorry for the wait, I was unable to acces my account, but I will not bore anyone with what will seem like mere excuses. So continue on lovelies for it is finally here!

And of course, **Fröhliche Weihnachten!**

* * *

 **Last Chapter...**

* * *

{ _Harry's viewpoint_ }

His patience was not nearly as strong as he had thought, and he carefully warded his bed and crawled behind the curtains once noticing a fair lack of James and Sirius. With a quick fourish his whipped up the thick files encased in his robes. Warily he checked for any spells, curses, warding, or hexes on the pages but none were found. He eagerly flipped over the first page to find-

Nothing. White, blank paper.

He flipped through the entirety of the pages to find them in the same condition. He sighed in a most put upon way, and drummed his fingers on the stack of apparently blank but not negatively charmed papers.

Why would Macnair want blank papers? And if this was a mission commissioned by the Dark Lord, why had Riddle been there and even questioned after the papers? And if Macnair was doing this for reasons that involved Hadrian Riddle and not telling Tom Riddle, then what was the sacred importance of these papers that he would risk himself so? And how did Macnair know of him if Tom Riddle didn't even know he had a son? What was Harry missing?

He was seriously becoming invested in the backstory created for Hadrian Riddle.

A sudden breeze drifted through the curtains and a couple of the papers drifted away. Harry snatched them from the air, but on the cover page he cut his thumb on the sharp, crisp edge of paper. Hissing in frustration he placed the paper back on top of the pile before pulling out his wand to be rid of the red stain. Before he did, something caught his eye. An elegant script with looping letters and the beauty of sophistication faded into being.

 _Mother Knows Best_

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

 **Meddling Affairs**

* * *

Harry had an ill and foreboding feeling as he watched the words come into being, which wasn't even based on what they said. It was instead the reminder it served him of Tom Riddle's diary that gave him a prickly ice-cold chill down his back. As he watched, more words followed.

 _All information accounted for:_

 _Yes_

 _Blood sample a correct verification:_

 _Yes_

 _Unlocking:_

 _Yes_

 _Unlocking Now_

Suddenly a mess of scrawl filled the creamy paper, then he flipped through the rest to see the same happening. It was a tiny, cramped, and cursive muddle to Harry, so he decided to start reading from the beginning...

* * *

"I expect that all the proper paperwork is accordingly there for your browsing enjoyment," the tall man assured with a gratuitous smile. Mrs. Cole was surely getting along in age, but she was still flustered with this young man- barely thirty three at the eldest. He was just so deliciously handsome, with that silky looking hair...

"Why thank you, Mr. Black. I am definite that there will be no complications in this process. We shall have him called here for a while during school holidays, and you can meet him. Then also perhaps you will go through with such a big life step as adopting a young man. I congratulate you!" In her excitement to see this man again, she forgot entirely to warn him of the freakish occurences when it came to Hadrian Riddle, letting Mr. Black leave without the forewarning.

Mr. Orion Black personally had no idea what his Lord was planning when it came to the adoption of some random more-than-likely mudblood. But he obeyed his orders, regardless of confusion. That was what he always did, for he knew his Lord's temper was not to be underestimated and his Lord's judgement could generally be trusted.

* * *

 _27\. April. 1960_

 _The struggle grows stronger by the day._

 _My patient's regular absorbance of magical aura is not nearly high enough to support two lives. The child will certainly not make it into the final trimester. Perhaps not even the second. The mother's consumption of food has drastically decreased and yet her child grows stronger, an odd phenomenon. But the child will both pass away with such clear deterioration of the mother's health surely. It only will take time to see._

Harry spun through the short, unidentifying entries on this doctor's patient's health, before coming to a stop when the painfully neat writing became sharp and scrawling.

 _13\. August. 1960_

 _The child is strong, stronger than his mother for many weeks now. He swells in magical aura and health on seemingly nothing as his mother consumes little to no food and barely can move from exhaustion. And I have found the answer to this 'phenomenon' as I so foolishly called it. Her unwillingness to eat and lack of movement is a cause of the creature growing inside her. It is taking her magic. and once this is drained, the child will go for the weak crumbs of her life force to help itself survive. It is an ancient form of wizarding child, created when a mother is intended to be replaced and there is no use for her but her child. I have now discovered they can be replicated accidentally it seems. The devoratrix will take her life, I am now sure of it. Can I stop this? Will she allow me to do so?_

 _If her spouse were to discover what part I have played in concealing her, then practically ensuring her death, I will face that very fate._

 _A dilemma._

 _14\. August. 1960_

 _She refused to be rid of the child, claiming its innocence of all things. So that may be, but it will still kill her in the end._

 _She also remained staunchly against the idea of even writing a letter to alert her spouse of the child or her survival of the attack. She says he will then find us someway and it is best to avoid all contact, and I truly do not doubt this._

 _Remarkable man._

 _But it boggles me that she does all this hiding and running to save a child who will kill her. I would most likely attempt to contact her spouse to alert him of his wife's well being and the devoratrix, however I am aware I will be the one penalized for the current situation._

There was a noticeable lack of writing for nearly two months. The next divulgance of information laid in November.

 _24\. November. 1960_

 _My patient is nearly comatose for most of her time. The devoratrix is ridiculously strong. I stay adamant in my view that she will not survive. It would take a miracle. Her spouse grows more agitated in his actions by the day. The lack of her seems to be taking its toll, and his hope of her survival dwindling. I regret nothing more than hiding her here with me, but what is done is done. And there is nothing I can do now to fix any of it._

 _10\. December. 1960_

 _The child will be born within the next couple of weeks. Its health is prime and the Missus is truly out of it for the majority of the day._

Yet again, there was a lack of entries. Instead pages upon pages of potion mumbo-jumbo and scrawled notes lead up to the last entry.

 _31\. December. 1960_

 _It is a true miracle sent by Magick herself I am certain! The child has arrived, and she has survived the birth! While still weak she should slowly recover her health_

There was a long line of ink trailing from the last 'h' as if someone has suddenly yanked their hand back and the ink was jaggedly drawn against the parchment. Harry could tell without a doubt that hadn't been the intended end of the entry.

Harry was not dull in the head, regardless of what Draco Malfoy thought. He could draw himself the conclusion that the child referred to was none other than him. He felt a warm gladness that he hadn't killed his mother upon birth, before shaking it off.

The wasn't _really_ him. It was just a back story for this boy he created.

"Harry, you in here? We wanna check out the grounds, you coming with mate?" Sirius' young voice permeated the wards around the bed. Hadrian popped his head out of the curtains and grinned.

"Sure thing," he said and slid out of his fortress. The files became meticulously stacked with the casual flick of his finger behind his back. "I could use some fresh air."

"Alright, let's go," James announced from beyond the dorm door, muffled by three inches of wood. Sirius bounded to the door and Hadrian followed in a calmer fashion. Yet the enthusiasm was contagious and he felt lighter after the load placed on his shoulders through reading about his birth.

He was a monster, that put his birth mother through excruciating pain and suffering to gain power himself. He nearly killed his own mother, and now it was unapparent what had even happened to her. From the sparse information in the Healer's entries, his father either knew nothing of him or wanted nothing to do with him. Most likely both.

It hurt, if he was honest.

Yet again, he was the freakshow.

* * *

"Madam, please have a seat," intoned Mr. Dumbledore. Half moon glasses glinted with the reflection of the fireplace as the newest Defense professor sat herself down. She looked around the office, and made no expression in reaction to the variety of splendid magical trinkets. Her gaze returned to the Headmaster once he began to speak. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We are happy to have you here- I especially as you have finally given into my pleas. Thank you for applying, I am certain you will do a wonderful job with molding the young minds."

"Molding young minds?" She mocked tsked and stuck her nose dramatically into the air. "I am a young mind myself, than you so very much, Albus. If anything _they_ will be teaching _me_." Sinking back into a more comfortable position for her sky high sniffer, she held a smirk that slowly faded away as she looked at her old foe's sad smile.

 _When had my utmost enemy become my only solace?_

 _I am truly, now, alone.  
_

 _But alas, Albus is as well._

 _But that was his **own** choice. _

"I feel old, dear, not at all like one such as yourself." The Headmaster spoke slowly. There was a very long moment of silence. The one, where everything seems to slow and you feel the beginning of something, or the end, or perhaps some dizzy indigestion.

Neither moved.

The silence stretched on for ages... or seconds.

The Headmaster stared blankly at her forehead. She was unsure whether he expected the response anymore.

But that nagging nostalgia swells inside her until it is a crushing wave that engulfs her small frame.

There is an eternal stupidity to the youth. But there was a wisdom too- that she just could no longer capture as she did.

Too much time has passed, and yet never enough. The words still came too easily, said too often before.

"Alas, you must see, I am twice as tired, " she returned at long last. The once automatic words were still just as sickly sticky _comfortablehomehomehome_ in her mouth as ever.

"Yes, you are, m'dear, " The Headmaster calmly spoke. He then looked away to the blank wall, and she took this as a cue for exit.

The woman stood and then proceeded to swiftly walk to the door. She opened it, and on the way out turned back just once to see her witty nemesis bow his head into his hands.

 _This is what we are reduced to now, Albus. The same level of broken after all we have done and what has been done upon us._

 _I have never felt more equal to you, and I had never imagined it would taste so sour._

* * *

"I cannot believe it's _already_ getting breezy. It's the third of September! I had hoped we'd have a spot more sun." James threw his arms up and tilted back his head. "A little bit of warm wouldn't hurt anyone, you know!" He spun in place, and quickly lost balance at the loss of his equilibrium. With a small squeak (that if you were to inquire upon you would find never happened) he tumbled down onto his arse.

He groaned and flopped down entirely into the grass, eagle spread. Sirius nudged at him with one foot, and James pitifully slapped at it. In a loud faux conspiratorial whisper, Sirius leaned back to Hadrian saying,

"I think he's gone round the bend. Pity, we didn't even know him that long either." James moaned in despair. Harry leaned forward to Sirius and said, in the same tone,

"Well it may be that's the problem. P'rhaps he's always been so nutty, we just haven't been round long enough to see it." James sat up onto his elbows.

"How'd you know?" He asked with the most innocent voice and a tilted head.

Before they could say another word, James leapt to his feet and grinned in the most unhinged look that Harry had seen since the lovely Bellatrix Lestrange of his day.

Sarcasm should be noted in this instance.

"Look at him!" James crowed. "Bloody fool that one! Never seen a shower I'd reckon." A bit beyond and to the left of the boys was the Great Lake, and next to it was a large weeping willow. Right outside the curtains of the tree sat a small figure whom, even from their little distance, could clearly be seen to have hair so greasy that it shone.

It shone, and there was not a ray of sun.

Harry easily could assume that the black strands belonged to one dour Potions master, Severus Snape. He felt a twinge of pain, thinking of their similiar upbringing experiences.

It was best to nip this situation in the bud, he knew.

"James," Hadrian started slowly. "You really shouldn't tease him. You don't even know him or anything, and it's really rather unfair." James snorted.

"Unfair? I think it's unfair that we are forced to deal with people like that who can't even be bothered to wash themselves. Anyway, he's a snake." James pointed to the green and silver robes. "My father was right about them sneaky bastards. I mean Heir Malfoy is such a prat! I think you should've spelled _him_ to the bottom of the lake!" _Nip it in the bud, nip it in the bud,_ Harry's mind chanted to him.

"They can't all be the same, I mean think about Gryffindors. Are we anything like Sayre and his goons?" Sirius' eyes went wide and he barked out a sharp laugh.

"No- _that nuthead_ \- no."

"Exactly," Harry continued with a shrug. "So how do we know he'll be like Malfoy?"

"Yeah well, I'm not going to have to talk with him or anything, so I guess it's not that big of a deal." James kicked idly at the ground, his interest in the subject having evaporated entirely. "Let's check out the Forest." He started walking, gaining speed as his excitement rose at the prospect. Sirius was right behind him, and Harry lingered and called out,

"It's real dangerous you know!" Yet, he still followed. _If anything,_ Harry thought, _I can protect in dire situations. At least we have that._ At the edge of the trees the boys stopped.

"We won't go far, " Sirius said. "Just a bit, y'know." James nodded sagely.

"Just to look around a bit." Harry smiled lopsidely.

"It's alright I guess. As long as we aren't caught." James shot a look to the bent figure of Snape, but the boy was still mezmerised by the textbook in his hands.

* * *

A man of impressive stature gazed into the dark woods. His blonde hair was windswept to the side in a stylish manner, and his dark, rich blue robes elegant and clearly tailored by those of the finest degree.

Behind him stood a silence. A thousand men stood in a uniform shape, black hoods covering half of their faces. The darkness of the material seemed almost alive, like night itself and if you got too close the fabric would suck you into it.

The man stepped forward once, as if crossing some imaginary line. Then he took another step, then another, then another.

Now the rows upon rows of the shimmering night cloaks followed, swiftly and in silence.

Their leader reached one hand up, to gently finger the thin silver chain around his throat that on the end carried the symbols of all he wanted for.

A wand.

A stone.

A cloak.


End file.
